


Thunder from the Mountain (Lightning from the Sky)

by seleneheart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Billy Hargrove Lives, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blanket Permission, Eldritch Abominations, Elements of Season 3, Empath, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Gay Billy Hargrove, Guide Steve Harrington, Homophobic Language, Hopper too, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nancy is a badass, POV Multiple, Romance, Sentinel Billy Hargrove, Sentinels and guides are not known, Soul Bond, Spirit Animals, canon divergence after season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seleneheart/pseuds/seleneheart
Summary: Billy may have inherited his blue eyes, golden hair, and love for the ocean from his mother, but he inherited something far more complicated and difficult from his father. Steve never thought his abilities were any kind of a gift and frankly caused him more trouble than they were worth anytime he bothered to use them.If they’re going to survive the Mind Flayer, they’ll have to figure out how to use their powers, but more importantly, Steve and Billy will have learn to work together.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 43
Kudos: 175





	1. Prologue - We Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _The Old Man Down the Road_ by John Fogerty. 
> 
> This is mostly written and will have 13-14 chapters, depending on how long chapter 11 gets. I'll update as soon as I get each chapter written and beta-ed. 
> 
> The chapter titles are all Arcade Fire song titles. 
> 
> I started writing this a while ago (like months ago, probably even before Season 3 came out), but then got stalled out until saw a Tumblr post where someone asked why there was no Sentinel AU in Stranger Things. I don't remember who it was, but that kicked my ass into gear again with this. So thank you, unknown Tumblr person.
> 
> I used this excellent post about canon versus fanon in the Sentinel 'verse for reference to a lot of Sentinel ideas and tropes: https://eternityinalake.tumblr.com/post/53204036265/as-someone-who-has-both-watched-the-sentinel-and
> 
> Beta services by delanach

Xa’epu pulled back, evicted out of the young creature, snapped back to their being as the gate between worlds closed. As they flew, they passed over a different mind, one full of power, but full of rage and fear. This mind was not protected, not guarded, not like _elevenofeleven_ or _willthewise_. It was alone and hence vulnerable. They smiled. They would regroup and when they came back, they would find this powerful mind and bend it to their will.

They were far more ancient and powerful than the beings of this green world. They would prevail eventually. They would find and master the one who could bring the sacrifices to their altar. Their power would grow until none in the Other Realm could resist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon, the Upside Down is inhabited by the elder gods, and the Mind Flayer is one of them, named Xa’epu. I made up the name using D&D dice rolls.


	2. Keep the Car Running

_”Code Red! Code Red! Everyone to Cabin Base. I repeat, Cabin Base!”_

_“Will the Wise, here. Byers family plus Nancy on the way. Over.”_

_“This is Lucas, I’ve got Max, we’re en route. Over.”_

_“Copy that. Steve just dropped me and Mike at the cabin, I stopped him before he left. Over.”_

_“This is Max on Lucas’s walkie. I left my walkie on the kitchen table! Someone warn my mom and Billy!  
Please!”_

_“Channel?”_

_“This one! It’s on - just call them.”_

_“Alright, all further evacuation communications will take place on channel 3, reserving channel 2 for Operation Rescue the Asshole. Over.”_

_“Dustin!”_

_“All right, all right, I’ll get someone on it. Everyone else, switch to 3 now. Over and out.”_

~~~

As always, as soon as he turns onto his street, Billy slows down the Camaro, senses on alert, assessing the situation at the house, trying to anticipate Neil’s mood. The car is in the driveway, and given the time of day, they both should be home. Neil had been at poker night the previous evening and already gone by the time Billy and Max ate breakfast. That could be either good or bad, Billy decides, and then mentally says, _Fuck it._

He’s had a long day at school, then spring practice, then job hunting for post-graduation. There’s nothing shaking loose in this stupid town for an eighteen-year-old with nothing but high school diploma that hasn’t quite been awarded yet. The only thing he’s been able to find so far is lifeguarding at the town pool, but that’s a stop gap at best, and won’t get him anywhere. Not any place he wants to go, now that he can legally get out from under his father’s thumb.

After easing the Camaro into its spot at the back of the house, Billy exits the car, stepping carefully towards the kitchen door, trying to listen for any sign of his father’s mood or activities. Nothing like dinner cooking or the evening news. All he can hear is a sort of slurping sound. He wonders if they’re fucking but he’s overheard them before and this noise doesn’t sound like that.

The kitchen door is slightly ajar, but Billy doesn’t need the warning sign to be on high alert. He stretches his senses as far as he dares as he eases the door open. Stepping into the kitchen, he wishes he would have pressed with his sense of smell because he might have had some warning of what he’s about to find. 

There’s blood everywhere, dizzying patterns that suck his eyes in as he tries desperately to shut the sight out. The stench of blood and shit wells over his nostrils, clogging his thoughts, screaming danger. But he can’t stop his eyes from drilling in, to a pile of ruined tissue of what used to be a human being, blood and bones and worse things trailing off to the living room, where the slurping sound is growing louder.

He tries to wrench his gaze away, but he’s caught in the details.

“No, no, no,” Billy whimpers, feeling the unmistakable signs of one of his episodes coming on. He can’t lose himself now, not when whatever got Susan and Neil is still in the house. But he’s never learned to stop it and he can feel his mind spiraling away, knowing he’ll be helpless to prevent what’s going to happen whenever the monster finds him.

“Hargrove, come in!” 

Billy closes his eyes, desperately focusing on the crackling sound and hoping the murderer in the living room doesn’t hear it too.

“Billy! Fucking answer me!”

“Harrington?” Billy mutters, turning his body away from the carnage on the floor, physically making it so his eyes will open on something else as he turns toward the sound.

“Billy Hargrove! Pick up the fucking walkie and talk to me!”

There. On the table. The source of the sound that’s breaking through to his faltering mind. Max’s precious walkie-talkie. Billy grabs it, forcing himself to turn and put his back to the danger that he knows is in the next room.

He keys the button. “Harrington?”

“Thank fuck. Listen to me and don’t argue, okay?”

“Yeah.” 

Something about Harrington’s voice steadies him and he can feel oblivion retreating, clearing his mind while leaving him focused. Steve’s voice is a relief and Billy doesn’t know what’s happening but Steve calms the turmoil in his mind and he trusts that Harrington will get him out, so he listens without asking for an explanation. 

“Is Susan there?”

Resisting the urge to turn around to check again and not capable of explanation at the moment, Billy croaks, “No.”

“Got your car keys?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I need you to fucking run! Just get out and get in your car. Bring the walkie!”

With no thought to question or disobey Steve, Billy bolts for the kitchen door, walkie-talkie in one hand, digging in his pocket for his car keys with the other. His mind seems to be going a hundred miles an hour, senses extended in every direction. He hears clawed feet scraping the linoleum inside just as he wrenches the driver’s door open. 

He doesn’t waste energy turning around to check. Instead his hyper-acute vision focuses on every reflection he can find while at the same time, the edges of every shape are more crisp and clean than he’s ever seen them. He puts the key in the ignition without a single fumble, his ears attuned to the sound of the engine catching. He can hear the precise moment the rpms reach the correct speed for him to pop the clutch. 

His senses have never been anything but a problem his entire life, but suddenly they’re a help instead of a hindrance, and Billy has never been so grateful to be a freak.

As the car pulls onto the road, Billy chances a glance in the rearview mirror and sees a pack of . . dogs? burst through the back door. Covered in blood and worse. Weird mouths. 

He keys the walkie. “Harrington. I’m out and in the car. Where am I going?” 

_And what the fuck is going on?_ he wants to add, but decides that can wait until those _things_ aren’t chasing him anymore.

“Lock the doors.”

Billy obeys without question, although part of him wonders why he’s suddenly taking orders from Steve Harrington of all people. They’d kept their distance in a wary truce since Billy had apologized for going apeshit on him the previous fall. Billy had given up trying to puzzle out what made the other boy tick, and had managed to ignore the fascination he felt for him.

A thought suddenly occurs to him . . . Harrington had asked about Susan. His blood runs cold . . . Max never goes anywhere without the walkie-talkie. He swallows his panic enough to ask, “What about Max?”

“She’s fine. I need you to trust me to get you out of this. Can you?” 

“Yeah. I trust you, Steve.” And fuck, it’s completely true. He’s completely willing to put his life into Steve Harrington’s hands. No questions asked. Billy would mock himself if the situation wasn’t so dire. Maybe when he’s safe, he’ll wonder what the fuck he’s thinking.

“Max is on the way here. I’m gonna guide you to us. Turn onto Route 17 and head east.”

With another glance in the mirror, Billy confirms that his pursuers haven’t given up. “Steve. Those fucked up dogs are still chasing me. I’ll lead them right to you. I gotta go the other way.”

He closes his eyes, accepting the decision he’s just made, and knowing exactly how it will end. He has a detailed picture of it stuck in his brain after all. He decides it’s worth it to keep Max and Steve safe.

“No! Fuck you!” Steve shouts. “You said you trusted me. We have defenses!”

“Just get here,” he adds more quietly.

Billy reaches the T intersection at Route 17. He hesitates, looking at the western road, but then swings the car to the east, jamming the accelerator down on the long straight stretch of road. He can at least put some distance from his pursuers, give Steve time to activate whatever defenses he claims to have.

“All right. Headed east on 17.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs over the radio.

Billy follows Steve’s directions to the edge of town and then down increasingly smaller roads leading into the woods. 

“You’re gonna reach the end of the road pretty quick,” Steve says. “You’ll see the rest of our cars. It’ll be on foot the rest of the way.”

“I’ve lost those dog things.”

“Yeah, we don’t know how many there are. Hope you’re still in basketball shape.”

“I can beat you any day of the week, Harrington,” Billy teases.

“Good, because once you park, you’re gonna have to run hell for leather.”

“I’m parked.”

“Just follow my directions. Don’t stop and don’t look back. We’ll cover you as soon as you get here.”

“Fuck,” Billy breathes as he opens the car and lunges for the woods.


	3. My Body Is A Cage

Steve concentrates on his memories of the path to Hopper’s cabin, trying to lead Billy the easiest way for a person who’s flat out hauling ass, when falling on said ass might prove fatal. He can practically see each twist and turn as Billy runs. 

He picks the radio up and keys the mic. “Okay, there’s a trip wire in front of you. Jump when I say . . . Now.”

“Clear,” Billy responds. 

“Let’s go,” Steve says to Nancy and Hop. They step out onto the porch, Steve scanning the woods for any sign of Billy while Hopper and Nancy cover the edge of the clearing, Nancy with her pistol and Hopper with a shotgun.

Billy bursts through the underbrush a moment later, breaking his stride as he sees the two guns pointed his way.

“Don’t stop!” Steve yells. “They’re covering you!”

Steve holds his hand out and Billy leaps up the stairs, grabbing him. Hopper and Nancy follow them as Steve practically falls back into the house, his arms around Billy as he drags him inside.

“Got him! Shut the door!”

“Max!! Max! Where’s Max?” Billy demands frantically.

“I’m right here,” she responds.

Billy reaches out, his hand hovering like he wants to hug her, his other arm still wrapped around Steve. He settles for awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. 

“Glad you’re safe, shitbird.”

“You too, asshole,” Max smiles back at him.

Billy lets her go and turns to Steve. “You saved me.”

Before Steve can get out the, “Well, duh,” hovering on his lips, Billy drags him closer, wrapping his arms around Steve in a clinch that would make nuns blush. And while he’s still trying to figure out what to do with his hands, Billy laces his fingers through Steve’s hair and drags him down for a kiss. 

Steve mentally moves ‘kissing Billy Hargrove’ to the top of the list of things he didn’t expect to happen that day, ahead of ‘demodogs returning.’

And it’s not a polite kiss either; it’s open-mouthed, full of teeth and tongue. Steve thinks about protesting for a half a second, but he’s never been kissed like this and he decides he sort of likes it. He loops his arms under Billy’s and leans into the kiss. 

When Steve gives a tiny moan, Billy pulls back, staring at him with wonder in his eyes, and something else that Steve doesn’t exactly understand but wants more of. This time, he initiates their kiss, pulling Billy back in, opening his mouth and thrusting his hips tightly against the other man. Realizing that he’s fucking turned on and feeling out of control, Steve files any thoughts of analyzing the situation away for later. 

But loud noises gradually make their way through the lust haze covering his brain, and Steve slowly realizes that everyone in the cabin is screaming at them. 

He lets go of Billy’s mouth reluctantly and they stare at each other. Billy’s eyes are still full of wonder that’s now laced with amusement. Steve gives him a smile and then turns around to face the waiting shitstorm. Billy doesn’t let him go, and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve leans into the embrace, reveling at the feeling of someone literally having his back.

“Everybody shut up,” he says, trying to inject as much authority into his voice as possible. The expressions of surprise and shock on the faces of their audience make him want to giggle, but he manfully represses his grin. 

When it grows quiet, Dustin says, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Uh, well,” Steve starts. He has no idea how to explain what he’s not sure he understands himself. Leaving aside the whole guy issue, there’s the whole thing about him and Billy not exactly being close. “We’re . . .”

“Are you dating?” Nancy asks.

“Why wasn’t I told about this?” Hopper demands. 

“Uh,” Steve says, trying to think of an excuse why he’d suddenly be macking on a guy. “It’s really new ….”

Behind him, Billy shakes with laughter, muffled against Steve’s neck.

“And we weren’t sure about telling people,” Steve finishes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joyce says. “We love you; that isn’t going to change.”

“Thank you, Joyce,” Steve says. 

Luckily the imminent danger from the Upside Down prevents any more discussion of his presumed love-life as Hopper clears his throat. 

“Hargrove, I need a statement from you.” He jerks his head in the direction of the porch.

Behind him, Billy tenses, but Steve squeezes the hand clutching his waist. “I’ll come with you.”

They walk outside, Steve scanning the trees anxiously, and noticing Hopper doing the same thing. Billy keeps his hands on Steve, like he needs the comfort of contact with him for the upcoming conversation. 

“I know this is going to be rough, kid,” Hopper starts. “I gotta figure out why they attacked your house. It’s not what I expected and I don’t like monsters that don’t conform to plan.”

Billy nods, tightening his arm around Steve’s waist while Steve tries to send him comforting and soothing thoughts. 

“Blood,” Billy starts. “Everywhere, all over the kitchen. Something in the living room. Red hair.”

Billy’s voice takes on a distant tone as he recites a series of details that has Steve simultaneously impressed with his powers of observation and wanting to toss his cookies at the description of the wreck which was all that was left of Neil and Susan Hargrove. Billy’s eyes are vacant and his tone goes robotic. 

Hopper looks pale when Billy finishes. “Okay. That’s . . . very detailed.” He swallows heavily and cracks a weak smile. “Could use someone like you on the force. Better than the current bozos.”

Billy turns his face into Steve’s neck. Steve can feel the trembling running through his muscles and he soothes a hand over Billy’s arm, offering comfort. Eventually Billy seems to pull himself together. 

“Let me talk to Max,” Billy asks. They’re family, sort of anyway, and she deserves to hear it from him.

Hopper nods. “Okay, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, I think I need to update the tags to include “the opposite of a slow burn”.


	4. Here Comes the Night Time

As they re-enter the cabin, the Wheeler girl bolts to her feet. “We need to scout.”

“No!” Hopper roars. “No one is leaving!”

“We’re flying blind,” she insists. “We don’t know how many of those ‘dogs there are. We don’t know where they’re coming from.”

The kid, Mike, Billy thinks, stands beside his sister. “We can’t do anything until we know what we’re facing.”

“I’m not listening to a bunch of _children!_ ”

Billy can sympathize with Hopper’s temper. After what he saw in his house, the last thing he wants is another encounter with whatever did that to Susan and Neil. Remembering that, he detaches himself from Steve and jerks his head to Max.

They leave the argument behind and walk out onto the porch, apparently where every deep and meaningful conversation happens in this dump. He can tell by her eyes that she knows, and he would avoid saying the words, but he can’t leave it like that for her. He knows what it’s like to keep hoping when it should have been burned out.

“Your mom,” Billy starts.

“She’s dead, right?” Max interrupts.

“Yeah. I saw . . . she was home. Those fuckers . . .” He swallows. “Yeah. She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

He thinks he should hug her, but they don’t do that, and her brittle posture tells him she’d probably deck him if he tried. Maybe she’ll find comfort with her friends. Maybe she’ll bottle it up until it explodes at the wrong time. 

Billy misses touching Steve like an ache in his bones. How the fuck that happened, he has no clue, but somehow over the course of the afternoon, Steve Harrington had become absolutely necessary for his sanity. 

Max stomps back into the house and Billy follows, noting that the shouting has died down.

“We have weapons, and we’ve fought this thing before. We know what we’re doing, Hopper,” Nancy insists, picking up a heavy-looking gun.

“Yeah, all right. Fine.” The chief rubbed his hands over his face. “Just scouting, do not engage, and try not to be seen.”

Nancy continues loading shells into the semi-automatic. “Agreed. Billy, with me. We’ll take north and swing west. Jonathan and Steve can start south and swing east.”

“If you find anything, and I cannot stress this enough because I know how you people operate, mark the location and return. Is everyone clear?”

“Yessir,” Jonathan and Steve say in chorus, giving a mock salute at the same time.

Hopper ignores them to focus on Nancy, and Billy wonders if he’s seriously underestimated the girl. She’s always come across as a priss to him, but Hopper seems to consider her the biggest threat of the three of them.

“I said I agreed,” Nancy replies. 

Hopper swings around to the two boys, who look like they’re a second away from a friendly scuffle. “And you two! Don’t do anything stupid!”

“We won’t,” Steve reassures the policeman, his face a picture of earnest innocence. 

Jonathan shows a can of hairspray and flicks his lighter. “We know what we’re doing.”

Billy privately considers making a smart remark about the brain power of that particular team, but decides that he’s trying to stay in Steve’s good graces and insulting him probably isn’t the best plan if he wants to continue what they started earlier in the day. Old habits are hard to break, and he’s not used to being accepted by this crowd. Glancing at the curly-hair kid, who’s currently trying to kill him with his eyes, Billy mentally revises ‘acceptance’ to ‘on probation.’

“We’ve got about two hours before dark,” Nancy says. “Be back here before sunset.”

She slings the rifle over her shoulder and chambers a round in the pistol, setting off to the north and clearly expecting Billy to follow her. He reaches out and grips Steve’s forearm, the contact settling everything inside him that had gotten roiled up again. Steve returns the gesture.

“We’ll be careful,” Steve says.

Billy nods gruffly. “You do that.”

~~~

“So did you drag me out here to tell me to keep away from your precious Harrington? Hurt him and you’ll kill me?”

Nancy swings cool eyes his way before going back to scanning the trees ahead, the gun in her hands never faltering. Billy is impressed in spite of himself. She looks frail and timid, but he thinks he’s probably never met a more deadly woman. 

“I’m hardly the person to be giving that speech,” she says after a moment. “Considering what I did to him.”

“Then why did you pair us up if you didn’t have something to say?”

Icy eyes flick towards him and then back to the shadows between the trees again. “Because I’m the only one who carries a long-range weapon and you’re new at this.”

“You’re protecting me?”

“You seem to matter to Steve, although I don’t know why. And if keeping you safe makes up for last year, then I’ll do it.”

“Doesn’t seem too safe. Out here in the woods with those fucked up dogs loose.”

“Demodogs,” she corrects. “If I had my choice, I would have left you at the cabin. But scouting parties in groups of two makes more sense.”

“Is Steve okay? I mean, you said he’s used to this. He doesn’t seem too good in a fight to me.”

“He’s good with the bat. He knows how to handle himself against the demodogs. And Jonathan will back him up with fire.”

Deciding that he has no choice but to trust that these people know what they’re doing, and hoping that he’ll eventually get an explanation that makes sense, Billy asks, “What are we looking for?”

“Something that shouldn’t be here. Something wrong with the trees. Or anything else out here.”

Billy glances around, taking in the tangled trees and smell of the duff under their feet. They step over a fallen log and the rich stench of fungus and rotted wood wafts up to his nose. “Like that?” he asks, gesturing to the log.

“No. Decay is normal, natural. This is something not right, unnatural, doesn’t belong out here.” 

She takes a careful breath. “Last time . . . I found a tree, with an opening, like it was hollowed out. But it was oozing. I crawled through it and it led to the Upside Down.”

“You crawled through an oozing tree trunk. You’re either a badass or the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met.”

With a little laugh, Nancy says, “Neither, I think. Just desperate for answers.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t find my way back. Jonathan pulled me out.”

“Okay, I don’t fucking care what we find. We’re not doing that.” And where the fuck is the Upside Down? Another thing he’s going to have to get an explanation for later.

No wonder Hopper had been so adamant that they’re just scouting. These people are fucking nuts, Billy thinks. 

Beside him, Nancy shudders delicately. “No, we’re not doing that.”

She pulls a compass out of her pocket, checks it and then peers at the sun. “We need to change our heading to a few degrees west.”

“And incidentally, if you do hurt him, I’ll make you pay. Slowly and painfully.” She says it casually, just dropping it in there.

Billy gulps. “Understood.”

As they turn west, Billy sharpens his gaze, letting his eyes drill into the details of the woods. He’s never tried to use his sight this way. He’s spent all the years since that first time trying to avoid focusing too hard on anything, knowing that it was a sure way to bring on one of his episodes. And a beating from Neil. But his father is a pile of goo in the living room, and Billy . . . feels more alert and _present_ than he ever has. 

And if his mind does betray him and lock him into that lost place? For some reason, Billy trusts that these people will come up with a way to get him out. He’s never had competent back up before, in anything. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, Wheeler?”

She turns to him, and something about her gaze, cool and mildly curious, gives him a freedom he’s never felt before. Never once has he explained what happens to him to anyone. He can barely put it into words without wincing.

“I, uh. I have these . . . episodes. My eyes get caught, and I just . . . disappear into my head. If it happens, I’m not going to be much use to you.”

“Do you have epilepsy?”

“What? No. I don’t spaz out.”

“That’s a grand mal. There’s other types. Some people seize and just stare into space.”

Was that it? All this time, was he just sick? A disease that he couldn’t possibly be responsible for? _No son of mine is going to be a freak. I’m gonna beat it out of you, boy!_ Billy determinedly puts all thoughts of Neil Hargrove in a box inside his mind marked Do Not Open. His father can’t hurt him anymore.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Never seen a doctor about it.”

Nancy nods and her gaze sharpens. “What do I need to do?”

So matter of fact, not pressing him or the slightest bit sympathetic. Just practical action. Maybe he can understand what Steve saw in her after all.

“Just time usually,” he responds. _Or beatings_ , he doesn’t add. Gesturing to the radio at her belt, “But last time . . . last time Harrington pulled me out of it. I don’t feel it coming on, but if it does, call him.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to try to look deeper. My vision . . . sometimes I can see details, tiny details, things no one else can see.”

Understanding floods her face. “That would be helpful.”

“But that’s usually what causes it.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t get lost in your head.”

“Yeah.” 

He turns his eyes back to the forest, concentrating. He’s relieved at how well she took it, although he’s aware that she values him mainly as another weapon in her arsenal. Ruthless practicality, that one. Something he appreciates at the moment.

They walk in an oblique path towards the setting sun, Nancy checking her compass at intervals and correcting their path. Billy is really sick of trees, trees, and more trees. The forests around Hawkins are nothing like the open woodlands in California, and the sheer density makes him antsy. 

As the sun westers, the bugs start to come out. A mosquito buzzes Billy’s ear and he plucks it out of the air, crushing it between his fingers without a second thought. Nancy makes a small sound and he glances at her, noticing one of the bloodthirsty fuckers right in front of her face. He focuses on it, eyes sharpening to take in the tiny details and calculating distances. His hand flicks out, so quick and accurate that her hair doesn’t even move as he treats it to the same fate as the first one. 

Nancy raises an eyebrow. “Can you catch a bullet?”

“I’m not Superman,” Billy grumbles, turning his attention back to their path. 

At that moment his eyes slide across a patch of ground radiating so much ill that he stumbles, his stomach roiling with sickness at the sight. It tugs at his eyes, tempting him to look deeper. He throws out his arm to stop Nancy. 

“What is it?”

Horrified, Billy feels his brain start to slip. 

Nancy’s voice is faint. “Do I need to call Steve?”

At the mention of the other boy, Billy focuses all his thoughts on Harrington ... the sound of his voice, the feel of him in Billy’s arms, his unexpected and enthusiastic response to Billy’s kiss...

He wrenches his eyes away and focuses on Nancy’s face. Steve had loved her; she’s connected to Steve. 

“There’s a spot in the ground.” He swallows down the bile threatening. Nancy takes a step forward. “No!” He grabs her. “There’s a hole. If you step on it you’ll fall through; you’ll fall forever.”

“I don’t see anything.”

Billy risks a glance at it. “There,” he points before the nausea gets the better of him. He staggers to the side, kneeling on the leaves while his stomach empties itself onto the forest floor. 

Nancy stands over him with her pistol drawn as he heaves. 

“We need to get back. Report in,” she says as his spasms taper off. She offers her hand to help him up. “Can you walk?”

“Think so.”

“Lean on me; I’m stronger than I look.”

Billy doesn’t argue with her and does his best to keep on his feet, fighting off the betrayal of his brain by thinking about Steve. He can’t risk a full-blown episode with both of them far from help. He’ll have to trust that she can get them back.

~~~

“Did you bring a compass?”

“No. You?” Jonathan responds. 

“Would I have asked?” Steve snipes without heat. 

Jon makes some noncommittal noise of acknowledgement as they head into the woods. Steve cautiously tests his emotions, trying to decide how he feels about his frankly astonishing afternoon. The return of the demodogs seems like a minor event in the momentous happenings. Jonathan isn’t registering any anxiety, more like a cautious sort of curiosity. The other boy is tactful enough to hold his questions, but Steve discovers that he feels completely light and easy about the whole thing and doesn’t mind whatever Jon wants to ask. 

“Whatever it is just say it.”

Jonathan mulls the request and Steve can practically trace the mental steps just by looking at his face. _Friends_ isn’t a term that might ever apply to them, not with Nancy and everything between them. But they’ve been through a lot of shit together, and Steve trusts Jonathan with his life and he’d be willing to bet the other boy feels the same way.

“He beat the shit out of you.”

“So did you.”

“You started it.”

“Hmm. True. You’re feeling protective over me now, Byers?”

“Everyone cares about you,” Jon responds with a roll of his eyes. 

“Including you?”

“Fuck you’re such an asshole.” 

They stop at a break in the trees and Steve realizes they’re about to say all the things they’ve been avoiding for months. Jonathan’s anger melts off his face, replaced by uncertainty. 

“You’re gonna make me say it.”

“Yeah. I feel like I’ve taken enough risks for the day.”

Jonathan snorts. “I thought once that maybe... you and me? But Nancy?”

“You’re an emotionally incompetent fucker,” Steve sighs. “Yes. I wanted you both. At the same time. The three of us. Together. Is that clear enough for ya?”

“Crystal.” After a moment, he adds, “Pretty avant-garde for bum-fuck Indiana.”

With a bark of laughter, Steve says, “Can you imagine? All the moms gossiping?”

Jonathan shakes his head. 

They resume hiking, Steve in the lead this time. He’s always had a good sense of direction and he figures he can follow Nancy’s instructions and still get them back to the cabin. 

“Would you still...now?” Jonathan asks and Steve’s glad he can’t see his face as a wave of heat washes over him at the reminder of what _now_ entails. 

The sense-memory of Billy’s mouth on his, their bodies straining against each other, and the overwhelming feeling that he and Billy belong together makes his lower belly clench in excited anticipation. 

Steve pushes the feeling away to concentrate on the task at hand. “I feel... I don’t know how to explain with words.”

“No need. Really. Please don’t.” Jonathan seems to be blushing and Steve smirks. “No one who witnessed the two of you has any doubt. I was just double checking.”

Steve shakes his head, trying not to think about Billy while they’re supposed to be patrolling. No one has lit his body up so much in a long time; probably not since the first girl he got inside. 

He steers them slightly east, hoping they’re not going to stumble over a hole in the ground with creepy vines and pods. They are noticeably lacking in breathing apparatus. He ponders whether he could find his dad’s old scuba gear and whether it would actually do anything to protect them from the Upside Down. 

“It’s getting dark,” Jon says after they’ve hiked maybe another mile. 

“Yeah, let’s get back. Whole lotta nothing out here.”

~~~

Hopper puts the phone down.

“Owens is going to start the process of getting us some help. If anything changes, I’ll call him back.”

“So we just wait?” Mike demands. 

“Why don’t you research electromagnetism or something,” Joyce suggests.

The kids give her blank looks, until Dustin pipes up.

“Let’s talk about what happened to Steve.”

Hopper doesn’t want to touch that one with a ten-foot pole.

“Let’s not,” Lucas says.

Hopper wants to cheer in agreement, but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing that these kids always know more than they let on. He’s not in the mood for teenaged secrecy, and he’s aware their lives may depend on everyone being honest. 

“No. Listen,” Dustin insists. “He shouldn’t have been able to guide Billy here like that.”

“How hard is it to give directions over the radio?” Max asks.

“In the car, maybe, I’ll concede, especially since Billy was pretty good about giving status updates. But not once he parked and started running. He wasn’t talking anymore.”

“Steve has been here a bunch. He knows the path, he told him what to do from memory,” Lucas argues. 

“But he told Billy to jump over the trip wire right when Billy reached it. There’s no possible way he knew Billy’s location that precisely. He couldn’t have guessed, and it would be impossible to calculate. Too many variables.”

The teens contemplate that for a moment, and then Will speaks up. “Dustin is right. He had no way to know where Billy was."

“I’d be more concerned about why he’s suddenly swapping spit with Hargrove,” Lucas says. After an elbow in the side from Mike and a glance at Will, he adds, “It just seems out of character for Steve to be kissing Billy, not that it’s two guys.”

“Actually my theory covers both events.”

“All right, shoot,” Lucas rolls his eyes.

“Steve is possessed by the Mind Flayer! That would explain how he can know things that he shouldn’t, and why he would be doing crazy things like kissing Billy.”

“Ew. Are you saying the Mind Flayer has the hots for my brother?”

“We’ve all seen _Alien_. Who knows what kind of mating cycle an entity from the Upside Down has?”

“Gross,” Max exclaims, and the boys echo her sentiments by making gagging noises. Jane looks confused by the whole conversation, so Jim guesses she hasn’t seen _Alien_ , thank goodness. He tries to keep track of her pop culture consumption, but knows he doesn’t know everything.

Dustin continues, “Besides, Billy is an objectively attractive human.”

“Yuck,” Lucas mutters.

“Am I right, Mrs. Byers?”

“He’s Jonathan’s age.”

“I wish Nancy were here; she’d back me up.”

“Pretty,” El says softly.

“See!” Dustin exclaims. 

“Yes, he’s attractive,” Will agrees. “But he kissed Steve first, not the other way around.”

“The Mind Flayer has to be possessing someone. We know the demodogs respond to it. They’re here, ergo so is the Mind Flayer. It makes sense that it’s Steve.”

“We could test it,” Mike suggests. “Put him someplace really hot and see what happens.”

“That doesn’t seem safe,” Joyce says.

“It isn’t,” Hopper interjects. “No one is testing anyone.”

He turns to Eleven and Will. “Is it possible the Mind Flayer has possessed Steve?”

The two teens exchange a look and then shake their heads. “Not the Mind Flayer,” El says.

“If he’s not possessed, he could still be from the lab,” Lucas suggests.

“The Harringtons have been in this town for ages,” Joyce says. “There’s no way Steve is from the lab.”

“El? Is he from the lab?” Will asks.

“No, Steve isn’t from the lab. Steve is . . . a nice person,” El adds.

She’s frowning like she does when she can’t find the correct words, and Hopper realizes that there must be something about Steve, but not anything they’ve hit on so far. He’s relieved that they haven’t accidentally invited the Mind Flayer into the house. On the other hand, Steve Harrington suddenly developing powers akin to Jane’s is a complication and Jim doesn’t like complications.

“What about Billy?” he asks, because Steve isn’t the only kid who’s been acting out of character.

“It doesn’t have my brother!” Max insists.

“Since when is he your ‘brother’?” Mike asks. “I thought you two hated each other.”

This is news to Hopper, because the two seem to be pretty concerned about each other as far as he’s seen. Not that he can claim to have much interactions with anyone in the household besides Max.

“No,” Max says. “He was good to me. At first. When Neil and my mom first got serious. He tried to be a good brother to me.”

“What happened?” Will asks.

Max shakes her head. “It’s not my story. Ask Billy when he comes back.”

“He has a papa,” El says.

Everyone freezes at that, except Max, who seems puzzled. Eleven never told her about Brenner, Hopper realizes. 

“Neil is his dad,” Max says. 

El shakes her head. “His papa.”

Hopper scrubs a hand over his face, wondering how he’s going to get a defensive and angry kid like Billy Hargrove to tell the truth about his old man. Because if El is right, Hopper is going to have some very pointed words with Neil Hargrove. Then he remembers . . . both kids are free of him. He sighs. He can’t adopt two more strays. He glances at Joyce, musing how she’d feel about combining both households, but then dismisses it. He’ll worry about custody of Billy and Max after they deal with whatever threat the Upside Down has for them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Season 1, I totally wanted Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan in a happily equal poly relationship. Then Season 2 happened, and Billy pulled Steve’s pigtails *hard* and I said, “Oh.”


	5. Ocean of Noise

Nancy and Billy stagger out of the trees to the west. She’s tracking with her pistol in her right hand and her other arm is wrapped around Billy’s waist as he leans heavily on the tiny girl. Steve’s heart freezes at the sight but he can’t see blood on either of them. Hopper barrels past him, and then he and Jonathan jump off the porch to follow him. 

Jonathan goes to Nancy while Steve and Hopper get their shoulders under Billy’s arms. The boy sways, staring blearily at them. 

“Come on, big guy, move your feet,” Steve urges. 

“Steve? ‘M’ dreamin’?”

Steve resists the impulse to say something snarky in the face of Billy’s lack of motor function. Their relationship has changed abruptly but old habits are hard to break. 

“Yeah it’s me.” He almost adds the following line, the one from the night that might be hazy in his mind for the most part, but everything about Hargrove and their battle is crystal clear.

Billy turns his head, listing awkwardly, and tucks his nose into Steve’s hair. He inhales deeply and turns more towards Steve pulling Hopper off balance. 

“What the fuck, kid,” Hopper demands. 

“I thought I imagined you,” Billy says, disentangling himself from Hopper and wrapping his arms around Steve. 

Steve is prepared to take Billy’s full weight leaning on him, but remarkably the blond seems steadier on his feet. 

“What happened to him?” Hopper demands. 

“I’m not sure,” Nancy replies. “He tried to explain it to me, but after we saw that spot, he just got more and more out of it.”

“You found something?”

“Yes.”

“But nothing attacked you.”

“Yes.”

Billy has started intensely nuzzling Steve’s hair and neck, which is sending inappropriate feelings sparking through the rest of him. Billy’s posture becomes more upright and he takes more of his weight so Steve allows it while subtly guiding them towards the steps of the cabin. 

As his heels hit the bottom step, Steve staggers a bit, pulled off balance but Billy grabs him, steadying both of them. When Steve looks at him, his eyes are clear and alert, with none of the hazy vacantness from before. He keeps his arm around Steve’s waist as they walk into the cabin where everyone else is staring at them in astonishment. 

“You were practically a dead man walking but one cuddle with Steve and now you’re fine?” Dustin demands. 

“Everybody sit,” Hopper says, grabbing a chair and turning it around backwards. 

The rest of them find seats while Billy drags Steve onto his lap, his arms gone tight and his face hidden in Steve’s hair again. Hopper looks like he’s on the verge of an outburst but Joyce beside him puts a gentle hand on his arm and he deflates. 

He points to Nancy. “Talk,” but the demand is soft. 

“Well he did warn me it might happen,” Nancy starts. 

“He had an episode,” Max exclaims. “But he’s fine now. I don’t understand...usually it takes hours.” 

“We’ll get to you,” Hopper promises. “Right now we need a sit-rep.”

“We found signs of a gap at seventeen degrees west of north. He saw it; I didn’t. But based on his description I believe him.”

“Was it recent?”

“I couldn’t see it enough to tell. You know how they open and close. Looking at it made him ill, so he couldn’t give me an estimate. Maybe if El went out?”

“I could try,” Eleven offers. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere until we have more information,” Hopper growls. 

“There weren’t any blood trails that I could see,” Nancy says. 

Billy has picked his head up, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. Steve wills any blushes away, aware of what he must look like, sprawled over Billy’s lap. 

“Billy?” Hopper queries in a clear attempt to be gentle. 

“Wheeler said to look for a wrong place; something that didn’t belong. That’s what I saw,” he insists. 

“Wrong...how?” El asks. 

Billy’s face crinkles as he struggles to find words. Steve rubs the arm locked around his waist. 

“It was a dead place. Rotten but like no life had ever been there. Like the world had ended.” He shudders and tucks his face against Steve again. 

Hopper and Joyce exchange a glance while Will curls tighter in the corner of the couch. Mike wraps his arm around the smaller boy. 

“He wouldn’t let me get near it,” Nancy offers. 

“Very smart of you, Billy,” Joyce praises. 

“Can we talk about Steve’s superpower now?” Dustin interjects. 

“What? I don’t...”

“I’d rather talk about Billy’s,” Nancy interrupts. 

Hopper raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He snagged a bug out midair, in flight. With his fingers. He was able to see the Upside Down. He warned me that something might happen to him.”

“This is none of your business, Wheeler,” Billy snarls, quivering with rage. 

“Billy,” Max says softly. “Please.”

“It’s not relevant Maxine,” he responds, heavy contempt in his voice. 

Steve barely dares to breathe, dismayed by the return of Billy’s anger and aware that he’s vulnerable to any attack from the other boy. But Billy seems to have retreated again, ducking his head to rest his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades. Steve takes a chance, allowing his posture to relax back against Billy’s chest and subtly grinding his ass down. 

Billy huffs, “No fair,” and presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck under his hair. 

But his voice is full of humor and the anger has drained away. 

“We have to tell,” Max begs. “If the gate is open, they have to know everything. It might be important.”

“What the fuck is the gate?”

Hopper says, “It’s a place like what you saw, except bigger. Where wrong things can come through. And do bad shit. Like at your house.”

“The gate leads to the Upside Down,” Nancy adds. “That’s what you saw.”

“Sort of a parallel universe,” Mike puts in. 

Steve can sense Billy’s confusion about the whole idea. “Remind me to catch you up on all of this later,” he says.

“Okay,” Billy agrees. “I don’t see how my fucked up brain matters, but fine. You do it.” Billy jerks his head to Max.

Max looks around the circle, hesitates for a moment, and then says, “Sometimes Billy spaces out, like he’s not there in his head. Nothing reaches him. You can call his name and shake him, but he doesn’t respond. And when it happens, and Neil catches him, he hits him until he comes around.”

Behind him, Steve can feel Billy cringing, as well as a myriad of emotions with shame and fear being the strongest. Reaching back, Steve cards his fingers through Billy’s tangled curls, trying to soothe and reassure the other boy. Billy leans into the touch, but the edge of worry remains.

“How does that explain him catching bugs?” Dustin asks.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispers. He continues in a louder voice, “I can see details. Like tiny, nearly microscopic details. And I can see things slower. When I caught the bug, I was looking at it in between wing flaps.”

“That’s so cool!” Will exclaims.

Billy startles as if surprised by the endorsement. “There’s a down side though. My eyes get caught up if there’s too many details or if something’s bright or unusual. I can’t pull myself away. And then I space out, like Max said.”

“Until your old man hits you,” Hopper growls, a wealth of anger and contempt in his voice.

Steve can feel Billy trying to make himself smaller. Steve swivels around from his position on Billy’s lap and pulls Billy’s chin up. The shame in Billy’s eyes makes his heart break a little, and if they were alone, he’d show Billy just how much he’s got nothing to be ashamed of.

“Sorry,” Billy murmurs again. “Now you know. I’m a fucked up freak.”

“No!” El shouts, bolting out of her chair to kneel in front them. “Not a freak.” She points to herself. “Special. Like me. You’re special.”

“Is Billy from the lab?” Joyce asks.

Eleven grabs Billy’s left hand and turns his wrist over. “Not the lab.”

“What the fuck?” Billy says.

El slides her sleeve up to show Billy the tattooed numbers on her arm. “My papa did this.”

Billy shoots a look at Hopper, but El corrects him. “Not Jim,” she says, pointing at Hopper. “Papa.”

“Okay, kid. If you say so.”

Steve nuzzles his face against Billy, risking a tiny kiss on the edge of his temple. The other boy slowly relaxes, although he still seems worried.

“It’s not just sight,” Max says.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust us,” Hopper says. “But we might be able to figure out what’s going on. You’ve gotta tell us the whole story, no matter how much it sucks. Believe me, I know how much it sucks.”

Steve remembers the rumors about Hopper’s dad and figures that if anyone can help Billy, it might be him.

“All right,” Billy concedes.

“How about I ask you questions? Would that be easier?”

“Sure,” Billy shrugs.

“Are you sure your spacing out episodes aren’t just from getting high?”

“What? No. It’s the opposite. Instead of everything being loose and easy, the whole world is sharp, everything has edges. And bright, so fucking bright.”

“But you do get high,” Hopper presses.

Steve wants to tell him that Hopper isn’t trying to trap him, but Billy has no reason to trust the policeman, and Steve doesn’t think it would do any good. 

Billy sighs. “Yeah. It makes things easier. Makes things softer. If I’m high, I’m not gonna go spacey.”

Hopper smiles like Billy passed some sort of test. “How many senses are enhanced?”

“All of them a little bit,” Billy answers. “Sight and hearing affect me the most, with smell next.”

Hopper nods. “Have you always been able to sense like this?”

Billy grips Steve tighter at that, while Steve returns to rubbing his fingers through Billy’s hair, trying to give him reassurance through touch.

“No,” Billy shudders. “My dad started hitting me. At first because I tried to defend my mom from him, then for . . . other reasons.”

“What happened?” Hopper asks softly.

“One time,” Billy starts, and then coughs. “One time, he hit me so much, I passed out. When I came to, I was like this. Everything was sharp and loud.”

“And after that? What did your dad do?”

“He said he was punishing me for being a freak and a f. . . … He said he’d hit me until I stopped spacing out.”

“Is your dad military?” Hopper asks.

“Yeah. I mean, he was. Served in VietNam.”

“Figures,” Hopper nods. 

“Hop?” Joyce says. “What do you know?”

“Nothing for sure,” Hopper says. “I’ll have to call Evans to see if he can confirm.”

“But what?” she insists.

“There were always rumors, when I was in ‘Nam, about soldiers who could scout better than anyone else. Who could find landmines by smell. Snipers with uncanny accuracy that could hit things too far away to see. But they always had to have a partner to keep them from losing their minds. The ones that didn’t . . . most ended up in the stockade.”

“You think that’s what I am,” Billy states. 

“It fits.”

“He wanted me to call Steve if he had an episode,” Nancy says.

Hopper nods. “Makes sense.”

“So you’re saying I’m gonna go fucking nuts, and what? Beat the shit out of the whole town?”

“No,” Hopper says. “I think you’re gonna be fine. I think you’ve found your partner.”

“At one summer camp, we learned rappelling,” Steve says. “You can go way out on the ropes, as long as you have someone to belay you. Like an anchor.”

“Yes, like that,” Hopper agrees.

Steve turns around and kisses Billy softly. “I’m your anchor. Everything is going to be all right.”

Joyce stands up and joins them, laying a soft hand in Billy’s curls. “Steve’s right, honey. We’re here now. We may not look like much, but we’ve handled some shit.”

Billy gives a little hiccup like he’s holding back a snort. “Thanks.”

“Alright, people, that’s enough nonsense for one day. I’m gonna start dinner.” She looks around the room. “Who’s gonna help with my famous Tuna Noodle Surprise?”

After a stern glare from their mother, both Jonathan and Will scramble to their feet and head to the kitchen. Nancy follows them, while the three remaining boys start arguing about something under their breaths. Steve hears something about testing and hopes they realize that Billy can likely hear whatever they’re planning to do to him.

But Max comes over to them. Her face is studiously blank in a way Steve recognizes as her being about to explode but holding back. Remembering what went down at her house earlier, he disentangles himself from Billy’s grasp and stands up.

“I’m gonna go help Joyce. Make sure she uses the right kind of potato chips.”

“Billy,” she whispers.

“Sit, shitbird,” Billy says, patting the seat beside him.

When Steve looks up again, she’s leaned against his shoulder and the two siblings are holding a whispered conversation. Max’s eyes are wet but she looks like she’ll be okay.

~~~

As it grows dark, Hopper says, “So, sleeping arrangements. Max and Jane, Jane’s bedroom. Byers family, my room.”

“Wait a minute,” Dustin protests. “We want Will with us.”

Steve wonders if Dustin and the others have considered what the situation at their own houses might be. They’re pretty smart kids, they have to be wondering why the Mind-Flayer sent the demodogs to Max and Billy’s house. If it was revenge for last time, then all their families are in danger. He supposes it’s a good thing his parents aren’t home and won’t be until mid-June.

“Hop,” Joyce says. “We’re a little beyond propriety at this point.”

“You don’t have a daughter,” Hopper snarls at her.

“Let them figure it out,” she insists.

“Fine.” 

He goes to the closet and pulls out a variety of blankets and sleeping bags, and then drops them in various piles around the room.

“You two can have this one,” Hopper says, dumping a sleeping bag at their feet.

Steve stares at the bag, realizing what it implies and then bolts for the porch. He leans against a pillar, trying to sort out his panic.

Behind him, someone exits the cabin. He can tell it’s Billy, but luckily the other boy doesn’t try to touch him. Instead there’s the crinkle of cellophane and the snick of a lighter. Sweet smoke wafts his way. Steve holds out his hand and Billy puts the cigarette in his fingers. Taking a puff, Steve lets the hit of nicotine settle his nerves. 

“Okay,” he says.

“So you’re okay with French kissing me in front of everyone, but the idea of sleeping with me, in the literal and not euphemistic sense, freaks you out?”

Steve turns to face him. “I know it’s stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Billy corrects. “Confusing.”

“Yeah.” 

Billy takes the cigarette back and stares out at the woods, his eyes scanning. He doesn’t press for answers and Steve guesses that he probably won’t. But he’s been winging this whole thing all day and now that it’s come down to it, they need to talk.

“Sex is easy,” he starts. “Not that I want to have sex with you. I mean . . . I sort of do, but, uhm. Sleeping. Sleeping isn’t sex.”

Billy turns his eyes from the woods and raises an amused eyebrow at Steve. But Steve can’t sense any malice in him, just fondness. How the hell did Billy Hargrove get fond of him in just a few hours? He supposes it’s not any weirder than how he feels.

“I don’t do sleeping,” Steve concludes.

“You kick ‘em out of bed right away, Harrington?”

“Well, yeah.”

He grabs the cigarette back, inhaling deeply and drawing the cherry nearly to the butt. “Sleeping is intimate. Sleeping is serious.”

“Sleeping is vulnerable,” Billy adds. 

“Yeah, that too,” Steve agrees, thinking about how many nights he’s lain awake in his bed, bat in his hands, trying to convince himself that he’s not about to be attacked by things with too many teeth.

“You and Wheeler ever?”

“Couple times.”

“We don’t have to share tonight.”

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “I want to. And I don’t get it. Why I kissed you. Why I feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I want to protect you. I want to touch you. And we’ve barely spoken before this. Not even friends.”

“I dunno, pretty boy. But I’m glad you’re here. Maybe worry about the rest of it as we get to it?”

“Yeah, maybe we should be more concerned about surviving the next few days.”

Billy pinches the cigarette out and then tosses it over the railing. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Ugh, the floor,” Steve complains.

With a smirk, Billy says, “That’s a bigger worry than bunking with me.” He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

As he squirms around trying to get comfortable on the floor, Billy wraps his arms around him. Steve settles, enjoying the warmth and contact. Maybe spending the night with Billy Hargrove isn’t the worst thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story happens in the same universe as _The Sentinel_ but that show was in the 90s and this is mid-80s. In this world, sentinels are rumored, but not confirmed. Hence the ‘sentinels and guides are not known’ tag. It’s canon to the Sentinel that most people with the ability go into protective sort of fields, especially police and the military. So I figured that the best place for sentinel rumors would be the Army.


	6. Empty Room

Sun tickles his face, and Jim blinks awake. Joyce is a warm weight at his side, and he’s reluctant to get out of bed, but he’s got a to-do list that’s nagging at him. Joyce mumbles something as he heaves himself up.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

In the kitchen, he starts coffee going. The noise is enough to rouse the teenagers in the living room. He does a careful count. Wheeler is on the floor and Jane isn’t, so that’s good. Max must be in her room, too. Harrington and Hargrove look cozily curled together. What the fuck with them anyway? He really needs more information about what Hargrove is and why Harrington seems to soothe him. Nancy and Jonathan are missing, but Jim figures that at this point, those two are the least of his worries. 

He clears his throat loudly, drawing groans from the boys. Dustin sits up, scrubbing at his curls before donning his hat. 

“Eat some breakfast, then we have work to do.”

The younger boys scramble to their feet and invade the kitchen. Jim turns away from Billy and Steve, giving them as much privacy as he can. The front door slams and he grins to himself, assuming they’ve gone out to piss off the porch. 

Jane and Max soon join them in the kitchen, both girls looking neat and presentable. Jim smiles inwardly, but also feeling a moment of sadness that he never got to see Sara grow old enough to care what she looks like first thing in the morning. 

Nancy and Jonathan come out of Jane’s room as well. Jim shrugs mentally. Joyce walks in, blindly reaching for coffee. One she’s had a few sips, she looks her usual unsinkable self and Jim can’t get over how much he loves her.

Once everyone has settled into decimating his cereal supplies, Jim clears his throat, adopting his most official tone. “We’ve got work to do.”

Jim wags his fingers at the boys. “I need to rig a phone call to the station that doesn’t come from here. Can you do it?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Mike says. “What do you need?”

“One of the neighbors to call in a welfare check on the Hargrove house. Once they call me, I’ll be able to account for Max and Billy.”

Lucas is already doing something with the base station. “We need a number. Know any neighbor numbers, Max?”

“Yeah.”

The teens cluster around the base station, busily occupied. Hopper turns to the older kids and Joyce. “All right, once I get the call, I’m going to town. I’ll get the boys on a sweep, cars only.”

“We can’t stay here,” Hargrove says.

Hopper privately agrees, but says, “Why’s that, kid?”

“It’s too small. It’s too far from town. It might be easier to defend, but we won’t know what’s going on.” He snorts. “I’ve dealt with your officers, and sorry, Chief, but I wouldn’t trust my life to their observational powers.”

“We could go back to our houses, once we . . . find out,” Nancy says.

“I don’t think we should split up,” Jonathan argues. “Not unless we have to.”

“We could go to our house,” Joyce offers. “It’s defensible. We’ve done it before.”

“No,” Harrington says. “Mine is better. It’s bigger.”

“Won’t your parents object, honey?” Joyce asks.

“Europe,” Harrington responds. “The woods are there, but the nerds could rig something to guard that side.”

Hopper mentally runs through the layout and access to Loch Nora. “Okay, right. That’s our best option.”

He scratches at his mustache. “Once I go in, get us ready to move. Take anything that we might need. Weapons, traps, you know the drill. Be creative. When I get the all clear from the patrols, everyone decamp to Harrington’s.”

“Put Lucas’s bike in the back of my truck. No bike riding for now,” he adds with a glare in case anyone wants to argue with him.

His radio crackles to life. “Chief Hopper, come in.”

“Go ahead.”

“Powell here. We got a call about a problem on Old Cherry Lane. Hargrove house. I drove out here. Something’s not right. Over.”

“What have you got? Over.”

“Car in the driveway, that blue Camaro is missing though. Back door to the house open. There’s a blood trail. Over.”

“Powell? Proceed with extreme caution, you read me? Over.”

“Yeah, Chief. Over.”

“The boy drove his sister over here yesterday to play with my kid. He ended up staying over to hang with Joyce’s kid. What do I tell them? Over.”

“It’s not good, Chief. We need the coroner. Over.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in as soon as I can. Over.”

Putting the radio down, he finds everyone watching him. “Okay, I’ll call when it’s time to move to Harrington’s.” He turns to Billy and Max. “Do you two need anything from your house? You can’t go back there, but I can get some things out of there once we do our due diligence.”

Max looks at him wide-eyed. Billy finally says, “Clothes, I guess.” He nudges his sister. “Mad Max?”

She nods. “Yeah, clothes. My skateboard.”

“All right.” He looks at Joyce, who nods back. She’ll take care of it.

Jim straps on his gun belt and grabs his hat. He gives Jane a squeeze before exiting the cabin and swinging into his truck. He hates leaving them, but he has to trust that they can take care of things.

As he takes the familiar route from the cabin to the station, Jim considers how having a kid with super senses gives them an advantage. Unless Billy Hargrove can give them advance warning of an attack, Jim isn’t sure how enhanced senses help. Besides, he’s yet another kid in a war he doesn’t belong in. But something about the attack on the Hargrove house bothers him. 

Keying the radio, he says, “Powell? Callahan? Come in.” 

“Yeah, Chief.”

“I need you to swing by three other houses, just check on them and report. Wheeler, Sinclair, Henderson. Over.”

“Roger that.”

By the time he parks the truck, his officers have reported that the other houses seem fine. Jim’s unease grows. Last time, when the Mind-Flayer possessed Will, they had all assumed it was because it was familiar with him or connected to him due to his time in the Upside Down. Did the demogorgon take Will by chance or was it something about him? Will doesn’t have any extra abilities, but Billy does. Was the Mind Flayer looking for Billy Hargrove? There’s no other reason Jim can think of that it would attack Max’s house and not one of the others. She’d barely been involved last time.

Flo hands him the messages and he pours his coffee, and then shuts the door carefully. He picks up the phone wondering why his gut is suddenly churning.

“Dr. Owens? It’s Chief Hopper.”

“I’m still working on channels.”

“Okay, just hurry. I’ve got another question for you to look into while you’re waiting.”

“Shoot.”

“Two things, both military.”

“My security rating should be high enough.”

“Neil Hargrove. Served in probably the Army until the late sixties. Had a kid in 1967, so he was presumably stateside by then. I need to know everything in his records.”

“Okay. Hargrove.”

“Some of it is going to be public, but if I’m right, some of it, less so.”

“Right about what?”

“That’s the second thing. I don’t know what you were during the VietNam war, but there were rumors among us grunts in ‘Nam about soldiers with very acute senses. They worked with a partner or they went apeshit. I want to know everything the Army had about them.”

“Surely that’s just an urban legend.”

“You know, Doc, there’s a lot of things I’d ignore as superstitious bullshit, but I’ve learned better.”

“Fair point. Okay. You think Hargrove is one of those soldiers?”

“Was.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’ve got his kids with me. The biological one fits that profile.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

“One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I need documents showing me as the temporary guardian of William Hargrove and Maxine Mayfield. Don’t care how you do it.”

“Consider it done.”


	7. Porno

After they make their caravan to his house, Steve waves the nerds to the basement, and then shows Joyce and Hopper his parents’ enormous master suite. 

“Mine is the opposite end of the house,” he says, pointing down the hall. 

Max and El take the room next to his, but he’s slightly relieved that Nancy and Jonathan claim the room that his grandmother normally uses when she visits. It doesn’t share any walls with his.

He herds Billy down the hall to his room. The other boy stops short, looking around with wide eyes.

“Shit, Harrington, you have your own bathroom?” 

“Since I pretty much live alone, you could say all of them are mine.”

Billy rolls his eyes, hoisting his small bag of possessions higher on his shoulder. Steve reads uncertainty in him, so he decides to head it off before Billy can launch into something that they’ll both regret. 

“Here,” he says, opening the door to the closet. “There’s a built-in bureau in here that I’ve never used. You can put your stuff in it.”

Then he backs out, leaving Billy to it without an audience. 

Steve tries to sort out of the confusing emotions he’s feeling from the other boy. Why is everyone around him absolutely terrible at emotions? He rakes a hand through his hair, feeling the perfect waves falling into disarray. At least now that they’re back at his house, he can see to his hair.

As Steve and Billy move around each other, getting settled in Steve’s room, Billy gives his shoulder an affectionate squeeze and Steve laughs.

“What?”

“I feel like my life has gone from being a horror movie to a fairy tale.”

“How do you figure?” Billy asks.

“One kiss and you’re suddenly cured of asshole-itis? Now you’re a possessive cuddler? Sounds like fairy tale shit to me.”

“Oh yeah?”

Billy tackles him, pushing him down onto the bed. Steve lets it happen, relaxes under Billy’s weight. There’s something solid about him, heavy, and Steve likes it. He wraps his arms around Billy’s shoulders. Billy leans down, covering his mouth, and Steve doesn’t try to stop the bolt of arousal that flares through him. He goes with it, letting Billy know how he’s affected, straining against him.

Billy pulls back, staring at Steve with blown pupils. “What about you? One kiss and you’re suddenly gay? I don’t think so.”

His voice isn’t sharp, merely curious, questioning. 

“Not suddenly. And not gay. I don’t think. I still like girls.”

“Not suddenly.”

“You think you’re the first?”

That gets a reaction. Steve can feel the waves of jealousy and the rage underlying it.

“Whoa. No. I meant you’re not the first guy I’ve considered.” He tugs on Billy’s hair until Billy meets his eyes. “You’re the first one I’ve acted on.”

“Tell me.”

Hoping he doesn’t end up getting Jonathan killed, Steve begins, “You know this is the third time the monsters have shown up?”

At Billy’s nod, he continues. “Jonathan and Nancy and I, we fought one of them together. Well, we didn’t actually plan it, I sort of stumbled into their master plan to trap it. After Jon beat me up . . . and anyway. I wouldn’t go away so they had to include me.”

He twists one of Billy’s curls around his fingers. “That bound us together. I thought about him. Being with him. But I never figured out how to tell either him or Nancy. Then it was too late.”

Billy snorts. “Byers.”

“Yeah.”

“Him. He’s . . . pasty. Why him?”

Steve considers, trying to decide why Jonathan Byers of all people, who, if he had been a girl, would have been the definition of ‘not Steve’s type.’ He finally says, “Girls are easy. Girls are expected. To be into a guy, I have to trust them. Completely.”

“And you trust Byers.”

“With my life. No hesitation,” Steve affirms.

“But he stole your girl.”  


“Well, Nancy sort of stole herself, but that’s got nothing to do with it.”

Billy ponders. “Okay. But thinking about it and doing it aren’t the same thing.”

“Geez, where have you been? We’ve been sucking face for two days now!”

Billy sighs and drops his forehead against Steve’s chest. “Looking is one thing. Everybody looks. Kissing maybe.” He raises his head, taunting. “But you’ve never had another guy’s hard dick pointed your way, pretty boy. That’s completely different.”

Steve twists his torso, and braces his legs, gaining leverage to flip them over. Billy allows it, rolling easily under Steve. 

“You think I’m afraid of your dick?”

“No, that’s not . . .”

“Or are you trying to dare me into having sex with you?”

“No!”

“Or do you just not want this?” Steve asks, feeling uncertain all of a sudden. He thought he’d been reading Billy’s desire for him pretty accurately, but he’s been wrong before.

“That’s really not it,” Billy mutters.

Steve gets up and locks the door. “Then let me.”

Billy spreads his arms out, probably as much of a concession Steve is going to get, but he’ll take it. He climbs back on the bed, and settles himself on top of Billy. He starts with Billy’s shirt, undoing the only two buttons that are being used correctly, and then pushes at Billy’s shoulders to get the rest of it off. Billy cooperates without any comment or snark. If fact, he’s unusually silent, for him. 

Steve pauses, worried. “If I do something you don’t like . . .”

Billy huffs. “I’ll tell you. Promise.”

Aware that Billy is more than capable of defending himself from Steve if necessary, Steve decides to just give into his urges and trust that Billy will stop him if need be. 

He takes his chance to explore, nipping and nuzzling across Billy’s torso. His nipples get a reaction, so Steve shifts his jaw, gets the sharp sides of his teeth and rakes them across the nipple again. Billy lets out a muffled oath, bucking his hips and grabbing Steve’s hair. He doesn’t push Steve away or tell him to stop though, so Steve smiles against his belly, pleased that he got a reaction.

Moving lower, he flicks the button of Billy’s Levis open and then slides the zipper down. The fabric of his dark boxers is already wet, and Steve adds to the mess, tonging the hard line of Billy’s dick, under the cotton, while considering whether he’s gone this far out of some mistaken bravado, or if he really wants to do it. Billy makes a strangled sound and Steve’s stomach swoops in response. 

Oh hell yeah, he’s into this, Steve decides. Making Billy Hargrove fall apart at his touch is a fucking rush. And maybe he’s on a bit of a power trip about it, but his dick is getting hard, and that’s good enough for Steve.

He pushes at Billy’s jeans and briefs, and then smacks his hip. “Lift up.”

“Oooh, bossy.” 

But Billy does as asked, and Steve pushes his clothing down to just under the curve of his ass.

“Oh, look, the carpet matches the drapes.” Steve noses through Billy’s pubic hair.

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm,” Steve responds. 

He licks a long strip from base to tip, but has to grab Billy’s hips as he bucks under him with another choked off moan. Steve moves to the tip, swirling his tongue around and tasting the silky clear precome oozing out. Not much different from eating a girl, he decides. You put up with a few things to drive your partner out of their minds. Less hair in the way is a plus. 

Feeling daring, Steve closes his mouth over the tip, and gives it a strong suck, loving the feel of soft skin over blood-hardened flesh. He grinds his own hard-on into the mattress, unable to keep still. Billy grabs his shoulders and drags Steve up, bucking under him and seeking his mouth. Steve grabs his hair, keeping him still. He kisses him open-mouthed, thrusting his tongue in and giving Billy a taste of himself. 

They break apart finally. Steve clears his throat, fighting to talk through the desire he can feel flowing between them.

“Do you believe me now? That I want you?”

Billy’s eyes are wide, blown with lust, but something else, that look that Steve has seen before, but hasn’t been able to define yet. 

“I believe you want me,” Billy says slowly, like he’s feeling his way. “By your definition, that means you trust me?”

Realizing that his answer is important, Steve rests his chin on Billy’s sternum, thinking through all their interactions since last Halloween, and all the feelings he’s gotten from the other man during that time. All the rage he hadn’t understood before, but does now. All the confused loyalty to Max. All the shame and frustration. He finally recognizes the look in Billy’s eyes - it’s hope. 

“Yeah, I trust you, Hargrove.” 

“Then let’s just . . .” Billy pushes at his jeans, and shoves at Steve. “Naked, now.”

Steve rears on his knees, wondering what Billy has in mind, but he skins his shirt off and then stands up to get rid of his jeans and socks. Billy holds his arms out and Steve crawls back on the bed, back on top of Billy, who arranges them so their legs are intertwined and their cocks are sliding beside each other.

Billy grabs a double handful of Steve’s ass, and thrusts up. “Like this.”

Steve whines and braces himself up on his arms so he can get better leverage with his hips. They set a rhythm that soon gets out of control. Steve bites back a shout as he comes, and then watches as Billy loses it too, his golden hair in sweaty tendrils and his mouth open. 

Dropping off to the side, Steve winces at the mess covering both of them. As Billy doesn’t look likely to help any time soon, Steve gets up and runs warm water in the bathroom sink. He cleans himself and then Billy, dumping the washrag on the floor. 

He’s tired, exhausted really, but not sleepy. Billy rolls over and sticks his nose in the familiar spot on Steve’s neck. Steve squirms, tugging at the blankets until they’re cuddled under them. 

He wonders for a moment if he should go play host for the other people camped out at his house, but then dismisses the idea. Dustin knows his way around well enough. The rest of them can figure it out. They’ve probably already realized what Steve and Billy are doing anyway. 

Steve wonders if he should be more embarrassed about the idea of everyone knowing, probably hearing, him having sex with Billy Hargrove, but shrugs the thought away. They’ve got more important things to worry about. He glances at the window, at the blue light reflecting up from the pool. Somehow, the memory of Barb dying there doesn’t have its usual power to terrify him.

His head is too full of Billy for other thoughts to intrude at the moment. 

“I don’t get you,” Billy says after a while. 

Steve realizes that he hadn’t been sleeping either. 

“What’s that?”

Billy leans up on his elbow, looking at Steve intently. “The person you’ve been with me these last days isn’t the person I heard about as soon as I blew into this town. What gives?”

Steve sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

“My dad is one of the best corporate raiders in Indiana. Maybe the country, I don’t know. I’m not sure exactly what his job is, but he finds failing companies and slices them up for parts. Little ones, big ones, doesn’t matter.”

He grabs Billy’s hand and wraps it around his waist. 

“My dad gives no shits about anyone affected by what he does. Does not care who gets caught in the fallout, just that he makes more money off every deal.”

“Okay?”

“But I’ve always been able to tell what people are feeling. When they’re sad, when they’re happy. Or scared. Or angry.”

Billy rubs gentle circles in his shoulder. 

“When I was little,” Steve says, “I would feel _so_ much. But being a cut-throat businessman doesn’t work if you’re a person who’s tenderhearted for everyone and everything you come across.” 

Steve shrugs. “I got lectured on it often enough. My dad hated how I was.”

“Daddy issues.”

“All the best people have them,” Steve quips.

“So you locked it all down.”

“And became King Steve, biggest asshole in the school.”

“Until I stole your crown.”

Steve toys with Billy’s fingers. “It never fit me all that well. And by the time you showed up, Nancy had already cracked through.”

“What happened there?”

“I meant to just fuck her, you know? She was this ice-princess with a stick up her butt. A challenge. So, so beautiful. I was going to pop her cherry and move on.”

Billy grips his hand tighter, presumably at the notion of Steve sleeping with anyone else. “You didn’t though.”

Steve huffs. “I did part of the plan . . . I told the whole school. But I couldn’t dump her, couldn’t wreck her. Didn’t want to. Just wanted her to keep looking at me.”

Rolling over to his belly, Steve settles his chin on his fists. Billy’s hand cups his ass, the possessive gesture somehow a comfort. 

“When I thought she cheated on me with Jonathan, I tried to be the asshole again, but I couldn’t do it. And Dustin destroyed the rest of my barriers. And then you . . .”

“I hurt more than your face, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You were so angry, so much. And it was everywhere, you were possessed by it. Like this beast that was twice as big as you and I couldn’t even stand up to it. I thought I was going to drown, and even then I wanted to soothe you. I lost myself in it.”

The hand on his ass moves to rub soothing circles on his lower back. “No wonder you were so icy when I tried to apologize.”

“I was afraid of what would happen to me if I let you in. What all the rage you carry around would do to me.”

“I heard your heartbeat.”

“Huh? When?”

“The Halloween party. I didn’t know it was yours. It was like thunder, so loud I couldn’t think straight. Dragged me through the crowd until I found you. Then you . . . you were with her.”

“After that, I could always hear you. And it made me so mad because I thought it meant you were supposed to be mine. But you weren’t.”

“And when I shut you out . . . after?”

“Yeah. That was terrible. Like hearing it was taunting me with something I could never have because I fucked up too bad.”

Steve snorts. “Shoulda tried kissing me.”

Billy rolls him over, looming over him and sliding a knee between Steve’s thighs. “Like this?” he murmurs, before dipping his mouth to Steve’s. Steve opens easily for him, thrusting upwards with a groan as he hardens rapidly under Billy’s onslaught. 

“What . . . again?” Billy laughs against Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of imagined Steve’s house as one my parents lived in for a little while during the 80s, but then they decided it was too big. But a ton of people could sleep there. I would really like it if the Duffers would show all of Steve’s house for us fic writers.


	8. Crown of Love

The room is dark grey, barely light in the pre-dawn hours. Billy wakes up, senses on alert, ready for whatever threat is about to manifest. Pre-dawn had been his dad’s favorite time to make demands, whether it was to re-clean the already spotless kitchen, do a hundred push-ups in the yard, or just a general rant about what a disgusting and unnatural freak Billy was. Neil always found him at his most vulnerable and unwary when the sun was not yet up. 

But now the shadows hang in an unfamiliar room and Billy wakes in an unfamiliar bed. 

Steve’s bed. And Steve is curled against his side, tucked up like a child afraid of monsters, and hugging Billy like he’s a comfort. A fierce wave of protectiveness swamps him, making him realize how far he’d go to keep Steve safe from those stupid ‘dogs and keep the monsters out of his nightmares. And all the human monsters in the world. Thank fuck dear old daddy is already dead, because Billy can’t imagine what kind of shitshow it would be if they had gotten together while Neil was still alive.

Steve looks so peaceful. They’d snuck down to the kitchen for food after their second bout of fucking, Steve jumpy about the others knowing what they’d been doing. Billy hadn’t let him know that he’d been able to hear the commentary from the rest of their ragged band while they’d been in Steve’s room. None of it had been negative from the standpoint of the normal homophobia, more in the vein of catching your parents going at it. And Hopper not wanting his kid to know about sex. However, Billy certainly isn’t going to be the one to enlighten the chief about the curiosity of teenaged girls.

Having bat ears is a curse as far as Billy’s concerned, and he’s learned plenty of stuff over the years as a result of his enhanced hearing that he’s kept to himself. Unless it’s given him an advantage in his conquest of the school. But he’s never said where he gets his facts from. Now it weirds him out that these people know about it. 

Beside him, Steve stirs, and Billy holds his breath, dismayed that his restless wariness might have woken Steve up from the sleep he seemed to desperately need.

But Steve cracks open his eyes and mumbles, “Morning.”

“Just barely. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Steve says, pushing the covers back and getting out of bed, still naked from the night before. 

Billy would protest, but Steve shambles to the bathroom, and Billy can’t shut out the sound of his stream of piss hitting the bowl. His bladder decides to respond in sympathy, and he barges in to find Steve brushing his teeth. 

“Gonna piss,” he says.

Steve gestures with his toothbrush. Billy shrugs. “Stay or go, I don’t care.”

Eyes widening in alarm, Steve hurriedly finishes and flees the room, while Billy cackles with glee at Steve’s discomfort. 

“Dickhead,” Steve says when Billy exits the bathroom.

“Yep.”

He crawls back into bed, settling down beside Steve. There’s more light in the room already, but he’s not quite ready to get going for the day. Wants to stay in this bubble with Steve as long as possible before they have to face everyone else. He pulls Steve close, burying his nose in his favorite place on Steve’s neck. The smell of him there always seems to soothe his senses.

Steve giggles. “Tickles.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No.”

Steve laces his fingers with Billy’s. “Every time you touch me, I can feel more of you.”

“Fuck, I would hope so. Else we’re doing something wrong.”

Steve shoves him playfully. “No, you asshole. You’re . . . I don’t know. I can feel you in here.” He taps his head. “All the rage you had is gone. But everything else . . . it gets clearer the more we touch.”

Billy ponders that. “I don’t know how I feel about someone reading me so easily.”

“I could try to close the connection down again,” Steve says doubtfully. 

Billy doesn’t need to be telepathic to read Steve’s reluctance. “No. Don’t shut yourself off again. It’s part of who you are.”

“Okay.”

Steve rolls over and fumbles in his nightstand. “Speaking of reading you.”

He drops a handful of condoms and a lotion bottle on the coverlet. Billy doesn’t try to hide his surprise. 

“What’s this?”

“You know what it is. I want to you to fuck me.”

“But why? I thought last night was pretty good.”

Steve’s cheeks take on a rosy hue, obvious even in the dim light. “Oh, yeah. It was. Yeah.”

“Then why? We don’t need to do this.”

“Because you want it. You want to claim me, make me yours.”

Billy can’t deny that his instincts are screaming at him to possess Steve, and not in the creepy Mind Flayer way that this crew talks about. More of the fun sort of way. Butt sex is a big step, even for someone who seems as at ease with his first time at guy-on-guy action as Steve is. 

“But what do you want?”

“You. I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”

“Okay, that’s great and all. But some people just don’t like it. There’s a big difference between not being hurt and actually enjoying it.”

Steve rolls over and straddles Billy’s lap. “Big, bad Billy Hargrove. Afraid you’re gonna be off your game?” he taunts. 

“You are not going to dare me to ream that pretty ass,” Billy growls, refusing to give into Steve’s tactics. 

“Ha!” Steve crows. He drops his voice, so low that anyone but someone with enhanced wouldn’t be able to hear him. “I felt you last night, you know. Your finger. When we were grinding together.”

He rolls his hips in emphasis and Billy groans. 

“You slipped it in me. I felt it.” He leans closer. “I liked it.”

He gives a shudder and Billy can imagine the flood of lust that Steve is invoking in himself. 

“I wanna feel that big dick in me.”

“Fucking hell, you’re a menace,” Billy says, grabbing Steve’s waist and rolling him over. 

“I win,” Steve says smugly.

Billy grabs Steve’s jaw. “You tell me if you don’t like anything, understand?”

Steve nods, and Billy kisses him briefly before grabbing the lotion. He stretches all of his senses to the brink, studying Steve carefully for any hint of discomfort or withdrawal as he works to open the other man up enough to make the experience pleasurable as possible. But Steve seems to have no reservations about the process, grabbing his knees and giving Billy more room to work. 

“Fucking menace,” Billy groans, realizing that he’s lost control of the situation. “Put a rubber on me.”

Billy grits his teeth, trying to keep himself under control while Steve puts the condom on with lots of unnecessary stroking and smoothing. He knows what Steve’s trying to do, but he’s not going to fall for it. He’s not going to go all wild man on Steve, not for the first time they do this. Maybe later. Probably definitely later, if Steve’s into it. 

He pushes Steve onto his side. “Pull your leg up.”

Billy presses himself against Steve’s back, lining himself up. “Bear down,” he whispers, pushing forward.

For once, Steve listens and does what he’s told, and Billy slides in easy as breathing. Steve’s erection has gone a little soft, but he firms up nicely when Billy grabs him and concentrates on stroking Steve in time with the thrusts of his hips. He keeps his senses on high alert so he can respond to Steve’s slightest change in breathing or scent. 

He needn’t have bothered, he decides. Steve takes to being fucked like he’s been getting a dick in his ass for years. Billy lets the reins loose slightly and drives into him harder, working Steve’s cock quickly, determined that Steve will come first. 

Steve gasps and clutches Billy’s neck, holding on while he spills over Billy’s fist. Billy follows a moment later, panting and trying to gather his wits. He pulls out slowly, ignoring Steve’s attempts to grab him and keep him in place. He dumps the rubber in the bathroom trashcan and then grabs a washrag to clean Steve. 

“When do I get to do you?” Steve mumbles while Billy works.

“Whenever you’re up to it, pretty boy,” Billy laughs.

“Mmm.”

Steve is already falling asleep again by the time Billy finishes, and with a mental ‘fuck it’ he climbs back in bed. If people need them for anything, they know where to find them.

In just two days, Billy thinks as he drifts, he’s gained some control of his sight and also gotten in bed with the guy he’s been jonesing for since they met. He feels peaceful and comfortable in his own skin for the first time in longer than he can remember. Maybe his haywire senses can give them an advantage in the coming fight. Maybe he really is worth something.

~~~

The second time Billy wakes up, the room is much lighter, and sunlight reflects in the window, bouncing off the water in the pool. The light traces shifting patterns across the fur of a large golden bear sleeping under the window.

“Holy shit,” Billy whispers, trying to avoid waking the animal. 

“What?” Steve mumbles.

“Sssh.” 

Steve props himself on his elbows and gives Billy a puzzled look under his mop of hair that has gotten beyond unruly over night. Billy would laugh at him if he weren’t so concerned about the bear. He sharpens his vision, taking in as many details as he can. The bear doesn’t look anything like either the wrong spot on the forest or those demodog things. It looks like a perfectly normal grizzly bear. Aside from the fact that it’s sleeping in a suburban bedroom. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You don’t see the bear?”

Steve gives him a skeptical look, and then scrubs at his eyes. “I see a wolf.”

Now Billy sees the wolf, too, as the animal stands up from where it had been sleeping between the bear’s paws, stretching and arching its back. The bear rouses, opening its eyes, and sitting back on its haunches.

Still naked, Steve scoots over to the edge of the bed. “Hey buddy.”

The wolf trots over to Steve and nuzzles his hand. Steve scratches its ears. “I think he’s mine.”

Billy has clearly hooked up with a crazy person, and he wishes someone would have told him before they tumbled into bed together. Or kissed. Or . . . anything. 

“So the bear . . .?” He points to the window.

Steve looks, and then shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Fuck.”

But the bear just looks at him calmly and makes no move to attack. Deciding that Steve doesn’t get to be the only foolishly reckless person in their relationship, Billy stands up, conscious that his junk is swinging free in the breeze, but putting clothes on would mean he has to turn his back on the bear. He walks slowly towards the bear, hoping it doesn’t decide to rip his ribcage out.

He stops in front of the bear and looks into its eyes. He’s read somewhere you aren’t supposed to do that with predators, but fuck that noise. The bear is in _his_ bedroom, there’s no way this is a regular bear. The bear looks back at him, and all Billy can see is a vast understanding of the world and wisdom beyond anything he can comprehend. 

He smiles, and then the bear gets up on all fours and leans against him, heavy and solid. The sense of its presence fills his head.

“Okay. Okay. I get it,” Billy says.

Somehow he knows that the bear is his, just like the wolf goes with Steve. He doesn’t know how or why, but he feels like he’s gained another protector. 

Something has shifted in his head. He can feel Steve there too, without looking at him, Billy can tell what he’s feeling. There’s the vague echo of the wolf, but it’s not as strong and sure as his awareness of the bear. The connection to Steve is the strongest, and it’s been growing over the last few days, as they’ve gotten closer. And more intimate. 

Billy wonders if the channel between them works both ways. He gathers his feelings of peace and contentment, and then pushes them outwards, towards Steve. 

Steve looks up with a soft smile on his face. “What was that?”

Tapping his head, Billy says, “There’s a link between us. Here. I wanted to see if it goes both ways.”

“That’s what you’re feeling right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

~~~

They head downstairs, following the sounds of chatter and the smell of pancakes. Joyce and Jonathan are at the stove, slinging batter as fast as everyone else can eat it. No one makes any comments as Steve and Billy slide onto stools at the kitchen bar.

“Coffee?” Joyce asks. 

It’s pure instinct and Billy doesn’t think about it. He gives her his most flirtatious grin, the one he uses on all the moms, and makes his eyes warmly appreciative. “I’d love some.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s done until all conversation ceases and Joyce gives a delighted laugh. “Aren’t you just a charmer? But you don’t need to play that with me, sweetie.”

“Shit,” Billy mumbles, dropping his head in shame. 

Hopper is glaring at him, but Jonathan looks amused and Will confused. 

“What was that?” Steve asks. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Byers. It’s just a habit.”

Her face goes pensive, and she nods, setting a cup in front of him and filling it from the Mr. Coffee carafe. Jonathan adds a stack of pancakes to a plate and slides it front of him. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Jonathan turns back to the stove. Everyone else starts talking again, and Billy hopes his little slip up will be forgotten. 

He reaches for the syrup bottle to drown his pancakes, but the bottle squirts away from him and rises up into the air. He turns and watches as it floats over to the quiet girl whose name he isn’t quite sure of. She grabs the bottle and pours a shit ton of syrup on her Eggos. And then gives him the most shit-eating grin he’s ever seen as she shoves an enormous pile of sugary waffle in her mouth.

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, we should probably get him caught up,” Steve says.

What follows is the most ridiculous and fucked up shit Billy has ever heard. Everybody talks at once, contradicting and arguing with each other. He tries to follow all of it, but it frankly makes his brain hurt. And it’s not just their delivery method, but the shit they are saying makes him incredulous. If he hadn’t seen the wrong place in the woods, he wouldn’t believe a fucking word he’s hearing. But he did see it, and he felt how terrible it was. 

“So that’s where we are now,” Dustin concludes.

Billy paces over to the sliding doors, staring out at the pool where Nancy’s best friend died, and wishing for a smoke.

“Well?” Mike says.

“All right, I’ve got two takeaways from that,” Billy says. He points to Steve. “One. You were doing bad stuff that night. Not what I thought you were, but bad shit.”

“We explained all of that,” Mike says impatiently. 

“You endangered my sister!”

“We were saving the world!” Mike yells.

“I can take care of myself!” Max shouts.

He wheels on her. “You stole my car!”

She doesn’t have an answer for that, but Billy smiles at her. “Pretty badass, Mad Max.”

Eleven says, “Bitchin’.”

“What’s your other point, Hargrove?” Hopper asks.

Billy aims his finger at Jonathan and Nancy. “You two. You’re in deep shit with me.”

“Us? Why?”

“You beat him up, right, Byers?”

“Yeah? But so did you.”

“That’s not the point. Was he bleeding?”

“What are you doing?” Steve says.

“Were you bleeding?”

Steve ponders. “Yeah, probably, I guess. What does it matter, it was almost two years ago.”

Billy jabs his finger at Jonathan and Nancy. “You knew that monster was attracted to blood, you knew he was bleeding, but you sent him out on his own anyway. And you didn’t tell him anything. You’re lucky he’s such a brave idiot or you woulda had another dead body on your conscience.” 

“Hey!” Steve protests.

Billy sees that Byers wants to deny it, but not Wheeler. She takes the hit right on the jaw. 

“He’s right. We were careless.” 

“We can’t afford that right now,” Hopper says. He stands up. “Listen here. We can’t keep secrets, we can’t go off on our own. And we can’t adopt alien pets.”

“Hey! That was one time!” Dustin argues.

“You heard me,” Hopper growls. “Anything the slightest bit odd, you tell the rest of us. We can’t beat this thing if we don’t work together.”

“All right,” Nancy says.

“Marching orders,” Hopper continues. “You four need to go to school,” he says, pointing to Max’s little nerd friends. 

“What about Max?” Lucas asks.

“She and Billy just lost their parents, they’re staying here. Billy and Jane need to work out how to fight together. Steve has to help Billy keep his senses under control. Nancy and Jonathan, you two back to school as well. Until we know what’s going on, we do our normal routines. But nobody goes anywhere by themselves, are we clear?”

The nerds salute him, slightly ironically, but Billy privately agrees with his strategy. These people need keepers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so yeah, more sex. I’m sort of dipping a little bit into fanon ideas of sentinel and guide bonds. I’m not going to have Billy be crazy-possessive the way some fics are, but he has a definite sense that Steve is *his* and he wants to make sure everyone knows it. As for the spirit animals, I’m using them for my own purposes, especially since the threat they are facing comes from a different dimension. I figure I get to make my own rules about the spirit animals. Billy has a California golden bear, which was some kind of grizzly, I think? And Steve has a lean and rangy timber wolf.


	9. I Give You Power

Steve watches the nerds grumble their way out of the house, and then turns to the three people remaining. 

“All right, welcome to my dojo. We can work in the basement.”

He leads the way down to the rec room with the pool table, bypassing the TV room with the couches where the boys spent the night. He doesn’t want to contemplate whatever they did in there. Or try to clean it up. Picking up the bar stools, he shoves them out of the way, leaving a clear space at one end of the room.

The other three watch him curiously. 

“All right, just call me Steve Miyagi.” He bows. “Wax on, wax off.”

“Who?” Eleven asks.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dweeb,” Max says.

Steve laughs. “Okay how do we do this? We’re under orders to train you two.”

“My sister practiced,” Eleven says. “Maybe me and Billy can practice?”

“What else can you do, kid?” Billy asks.

Eleven points to one of the billiard balls on the table and it rises into the air. Steve reads Billy’s shock, but he figures he’ll have to get used to it just like the rest of them.

“Hey, your nose isn’t bleeding,” Steve exclaims.

She nods, “Practice. Bigger things are harder.”

“Okay, how do we get my senses under control?” Billy asks.

They fall quiet, considering the problem. 

“What sets you off?” Steve asks, deciding they can at least figure out what not to do around him.

“Complicated patterns, so anything microscopic. Flashing lights, especially if they’re reflected.” 

“No disco for you, got it,” Steve says.

Billy rolls his eyes. “Soothing music does it too.”

“Is that why you blast metal in your car?” Max asks. 

“Yeah, can’t afford to go out of it when I’m driving.”

“That explains so much,” she adds.

“What about smells? Do they set you off?” Steve asks.

“No, I can usually get around overwhelming smells by breathing through my mouth.”

“Mouth breather,” El laughs.

Billy gives her an odd look. Steve can tell that he doesn’t really know what to make of her. Hell, none of them know the full extent of what she can do, Steve figures.

“Nancy said you caught the bug. That’s a helpful skill in a fight,” Steve says. “You said microscopic, but can you see far away?”

“I don’t know!” 

Billy is getting frustrated, Steve can tell, so he moves in, and makes skin to skin contact, projecting soothing thoughts. 

“You gotta understand,” Billy says more calmly. “I’ve spent my whole life trying _not_ to see things. Afraid of spacing out.”

Steve keeps up the gentle pressure of his hand. 

“The whole topic was absolutely off limits with my dad. I don’t know what I can do.”

“Let’s figure it out,” Max says. “Steve can help you if you get stuck, right?”

“Yeah.”

Billy gives him a look that reminds him of the night before, fond and possessive, and Steve has to remind himself that there are children present. He can’t jump Billy, as much as he’d like to. 

“Okay, ladies, go raid my mom’s collection of knickknacks. She’s got shit from all over the world. Find things that are complicated and confusing looking. We’ll work on that first.”

The girls scamper off. Billy draws him in closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, and tucking his nose in Steve’s hair. Steve doesn’t feel any anxiety from him, but he wraps his fingers in Billy’s curls just in case.

“Oh my god, break it up you two,” Max says. 

Billy leers and wags his tongue at Steve.

Steve winces as Max and Ell show off their finds - a wineglass covered in seashells, a garishly painted horse from Mexico, a snow globe from some fake North Pole place, and an intricate ceramic beer stein with a silver lid from Germany. His mother is a pack rat, but she’d deny it to her dying day because she keeps all the stuff in the basement. Therefore it doesn’t exist.

“Want to start with the shells?” he suggests.

“Sure.”

“Let’s sit on the floor.” Steve doesn’t want to have to catch Billy if this goes sideways.

He and Billy sit cross-legged, facing each other. Max and El frame them to the sides. Steve scoots forwards until his knees touch Billy’s. He puts his palm up and Billy laces their fingers together.

“Try to see as deep as you can. I’ll be here.”

Billy picks up the wineglass in his free hand and stares at it. Steve concentrates on sending reassurance along the place where their hands are connected. He doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing, but touching Billy worked before. He hopes he’s on the right track. 

In the far corner of the room, his wolf lowers its head onto its paws and watches him. Steve wonders if the bear is around somewhere. 

Steve nearly misses it. In between one moment and the next, his sense of Billy disappears. 

“Shit.”

“What?” Max asks.

“I think he zoned out.”

Steve grabs Billy’s face, but his eyes are locked on the seashells. Nobody home.

“Okay, I can do this.” 

He unfolds his legs and wraps them around Billy’s torso, pulling himself forward until there’s no room between the two of them. He takes the wineglass out of Billy’s hand and sets it on the floor. With his hand on the back of Billy’s neck, Steve steers him until his face is buried in the crook of Steve’s neck, the spot that Billy seems to like so much. 

El moves around until she can rest her head against Billy’s back. Max hesitates and then leans against Billy’s shoulder. 

“That’s it,” Steve murmurs. “We’ve got you. We won’t let you stay lost.”

It takes longer than Steve would like, but he keeps murmuring encouraging nonsense, until Billy inhales deeply and tightens his arms around Steve, pulling him closer. Steve can feel the fear and anxiety spike as he comes back to himself. Billy’s breathing turns short and panicky. 

“Hey, we’ve got you. You’re fine,” he says. El hums something soothing.

Steve’s heart breaks a little at Billy’s reaction to spacing out. Conditioning, Steve thinks. If you get beaten and abused every time you zone out, you expect it. Even if you’re literally surrounded by friends. If Neil Hargrove were still alive, Steve would give him a piece of his mind. And probably get his ass handed to him. But still . . . what kind of monster does this to their own kid?

They’ll just have to break through to Billy, assure him that he isn’t going to be punished for his natural abilities. 

With one last inhale, Billy picks his head up from Steve’s neck.

“Welcome back,” Steve says, smiling at Billy’s clear blue eyes. Without thinking about it, he leans forward and catches Billy in a kiss.

“Do you have to do that so much?” Max complains. “We’re still here.”

Billy sneers at her, but Steve rolls his eyes. But he scoots back reluctantly, and the girls shift around to their original spots.

“Okay, so we’re not doing that again,” Steve says.

“Control,” El says.

“How? I don’t know how to control it.”

“Do you remember how you got caught?” Steve asks.

“No, I was just concentrating on the spiral shells and my eyes just kept swirling.”

“What if you went slower?” Max says. “Instead of jumping right in?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Right! Like a microscope. Or binoculars.”

“What are you talking about?” Billy demands.

“El and Max are right. You need to look slower and with control. Like dialing the focus of a microscope.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve says, “I think the microscopes at school start out a ten power magnification or something?”

“They go ten, fifty, and then one hundred power,” Max says. 

Steve picks up the wineglass. “Okay, look again, but try to think of your eyes like the focus dial. I’ll tell you when to increase focus.”  


“But his eyes aren’t calibrated like a microscope,” Max objects.

“No, not exactly, but it’s the general idea,” Steve argues. “Slower and in control.”

“I’ll try,” Billy says.

“Don’t look until I tell you. And then listen for me to give you the next step.”

Billy nods, his eyes on Steve’s face.

“Okay, look at the glass. Normal magnification.”

Billy turns his hand and focuses on the glass.

“You with us?”

“Yep.”

“Great. Okay, increase to ten times normal.”

Steve can’t read any distress from Billy. “Still with us?”

“Yes.”

“All right, try fifty times normal.”

“Still here.”

“It’s working,” Max breathes.

“One hundred times normal,” Steve says. 

He watches Billy carefully. His eyes are focused, none of the vacancy that Steve associates with Billy spacing out.

“All good,” Billy says softly. 

“Okay, back out slowly,” Steve instructs. “Go back to fifty times.”

Steve guides Billy back to normal sight and Billy looks up from the wineglass with sharp, present eyes.

“I’m not sure how much use that is in a fight,” Billy says. “That took too long.”

“It’s a start,” Steve replies. 

“Why don’t we test fast moving objects?” Max suggests. “That might be better.”

Billy stands up. “Throw those pool balls at me. All of you.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, trying to be the responsible member of the group, as usual. “Maybe let’s start with tennis balls.”

He goes to the closet with the sports gear, and pulls out several cans of tennis balls, tossing them to the girls. They fling them enthusiastically at Billy but he catches them all. 

“He can see them coming,” Max says. “He can see when we throw them.”

“Maybe.” 

El looks at Billy with a challenge in her eyes. “Try this.”

She levitates one of the balls while Billy watches her, poised on his feet, seemingly ready for her challenge. Steve recognizes his stance from countless basketball games. She twirls her finger and the ball goes rocketing around the room. Steve and Max back out of the way. El finally releases the ball, hurling at Billy from an angle slightly behind his head. 

Billy pivots and snags the ball out of the air before it can hit. Max whoops and Steve applauds. Billy tosses the ball back to El, who catches it and grins at him.

“Okay, you’re good at that,” Steve says. “What else can we test?”

“How about his hearing?” Max suggests. “We’ll roam around the house and see if he can hear us.”

“We need a way to check,” Steve says.  


“We’ll use the walkies. You tell us what he thinks he hears.”

“Sounds good,” Billy says. 

“Cool.” 

Max hands Steve one of the walkie-talkies and then the girls bound up the stairs. 

“I thought they’d never leave,” Billy says, pulling Steve closer, and kissing him thoroughly.

But then he jerks away, eyes wide in shock.

“What?”

“Max said to stop kissing Steve? How the fuck?”

Steve keys the walkie. “Tell Eleven to stop spying. Over.”

“We were in the upstairs hall,” Max replies. “Stop making out and pay attention. Over.”

“Go outside,” Steve says. “See how far he can hear through walls.”

They eventually determine that Billy’s hearing extends as far as three houses away from Steve’s, and then he calls the girls back.

After settling back down in the rec room, they debate what to test next. Billy is being remarkably tolerant of being a guinea pig, Steve thinks. Maybe he’s hoping for a reward later? The thought makes Steve warm and he hurriedly thinks of something else, knowing that El might decide to snoop again.

“If the nerds were here, they’d probably have all kinds of ideas,” Steve says.

“We could try a dog whistle,” Max suggests. 

“No,” Billy answers. “I think I’m done testing for the day.”

“I don’t have one anyway,” Steve says.

“I still think we should test whether you can hear above or below the normal human range,” Max argues.

“Wow, they really rubbed off on you, Mad Max.”

“Testing is not fun. I’m sorry,” Eleven says. “That you have to do this.”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Billy says. “If my old man was less of dick, maybe I would be better at it.”

“But it is my fault. I did what my papa wanted, and people died.”

Billy sits back on the floor and pats the spot in front of him. Eleven settles where he indicated, wary but curious. Steve and Max share a look, and then hit the floor as well. Steve wonders if Eleven and Billy can find some common ground, both powerful, both hurt by the men who should have protected them but abused them instead.

“None of this is your fault,” Billy says.

“But I did it,” she says. “I opened the gate.”

“Kids can’t help wanting to please their parents. No matter how terrible their parents are. It isn’t your fault.”

Eleven chews on her lip, considering. “Will you let me see?”

Billy looks at Steve and Max, but they look as confused as he is.

“See what?”

She taps the side of her head.

Billy stares at her and Steve holds his breath. Billy glances at the corner where the wolf is lounging, and Steve wonders if the bear that Billy claims is his is there too. Maybe they should name them. But they definitely aren’t pets. There was nothing tame about that wolf, even if it let Steve touch it. They must have some purpose, but Steve has no idea what that might be.

“Why?” Billy asks.

“To understand. To help?”

“Okay.”

Slowly and carefully, El places her small hands on either side of Billy’s head. They both shut their eyes. Steve can’t see what’s happening, obviously, but he keeps a close eye on them, ready to intervene if either of them seem to be in distress. Through their connection, he feels that Billy is still calm. 

Eventually, El removes her hands and sits back. “Seven feet tall.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs. “That was a good day. Thanks for reminding me.”

“You were happy,” she says. 

Billy smiles and glances at Steve. “I was.”

“Your mother?”

“She was so beautiful. She loved the ocean,” Billy says. “But she’s gone."

El nods. “Mine too.”

Eleven frowns then and Steve tenses, knowing it’s never good when she’s mad.

“There was more. He hurt you.”

Billy ducks his head, and all the good feelings Steve had been sensing from him disappear in an instant. 

“Why?” she asks. 

Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Eleven and Billy attack each other. Billy glowers at her, but then he schools his face to indifference. But Steve knows him well enough now, and their link is strong enough that he knows that look is Billy concealing hurt.

“Because he didn’t like something about me,” Billy says. “Something I’ve tried to change, but I can’t. I can’t change it.”

“Your senses?” Eleven asks.

With a glance at Steve, Billy says, “No, not that. Something else. Something the world hates me for, too.”

“What?” she whispers.

Steve clears his throat and holds up his index fingers. “See most of the time the right finger likes the left finger.”

He brings his fingers together and makes kissing noises. “But sometimes the left finger likes the other left finger. And the right finger likes the other right finger.” 

He touches his index and middle on his left hand and then does the same with his right hand, and makes more kissing noises.

“I don’t understand.”

“People,” Max says. “His fingers are supposed to be people. You’re terrible at analogies, Steve.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Anyway most of the time boys like girls, but sometimes boys like other boys. And girls like other girls.”

“And the world hates them?” El asks, clearly puzzled by the idea.

Steve sighs. “People don’t understand it. And sometimes, when people don’t understand things, it scares them. Scared people can do bad things.”

Billy snorts. “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Thanks, Yoda."

“Some people are just assholes,” Max says.

“Yeah, that too,” Steve agrees.

El pats Billy’s arm. “I’m not afraid of you. You and Steve are . . . nice. Together.”

Billy laughs, an easy, free sort of thing, and Steve’s heart warms at the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the 80s. Of course, we need an 80s training montage. Insert “Eye of the Tiger” into your mental playlist as needed.


	10. Une Année Sans Lumière

After leaving the Harrington house, Jim drives to the station the long way, checking on his town, trying to see if the things that are amiss are obvious. But he sees nothing and can’t delay dealing with whatever shit is awaiting him at work.

Jim grabs a stack of messages from Flo, sipping his coffee as he sorts through them. More missing husbands. Yesterday it has just been Sylvia Reynolds claiming that Walt hadn’t come back from his weekly poker game a few nights ago. Jim had talked to the woman, she’d been nearly hysterical. Now three other women had reported missing husbands. One of them being the editor of the Hawkins Gazette. Jim frowns. He seems to recall Jonathan saying that he and Nancy had gotten summer internships there.

“Callahan! Powell! Get in here!”

His officers dropped into the chairs in front of his desk, nursing their own cups. Jim waves the messages at them. 

“Are you telling me we have a deadly poker game now?”

The officers glance at each other and shrug. 

“We’ve each talked to their wives,” Powell says. “It seems to me like the guys probably went on a bender, and were sleeping off their shame. It’s happened before.”

Jim digs through his notes. “What night was the poker game? Monday. That’s, uh . . . three nights ago. Doesn’t that seem like a long time to nurse a hangover?”

The officers look at each other, and Jim sighs. 

“Who else was at the game?”

“I mean, there’s lots of people playing card games on any given night in this town,” Callahan says. “We don’t keep track.”

“Flo!”

Jim gets up and stomps out to reception. “Okay, Flo. I know you know the names of the men at that game. Please.”

She smirks at him. “Of course, I do. There’s Reynolds, Tom Holloway, and Mick Davidson that you already know about. Then there’s Larry Kline.”

“The mayor? Shit.”

“Yep. And that Hargrove character.”

“That Hargrove character?”

She sniffs. “I don’t like the look of him. Mean eyes. Neil, I think his name is.”

“Fuck.”

“Language.”

“Thanks, Flo.”

Jim walks back into his office, the bad feeling he’s had since the demodogs turned up on Old Cherry Lane intensifying. It can’t be a coincidence that Neil Hargrove was at the same poker game as other prominent citizens of Hawkins who have also gone missing. He had thought the Mind Flayer might have been targeting Billy, but now he wonders if it was trying to take out people of note in the town. But how the fuck did something from a different dimension know who was seen as important in Hawkins? And why would it care?

“I don’t like it,” he says, sitting down behind his desk. “One member of that game ends up dead. You saw that house. The others go missing? What the fuck is happening?”

“Maybe they did something besides drinking?” Callahan says. “Drugs or something that made them flip out?”

Jim nods, thinking that 'bad drugs’ is as good a public explanation as any for the moment. “All right, I’m gonna swing by the Reynolds’ house and talk to Sylvia. See if she knows anything else. You two take the other houses. Do not go alone, do you hear me? Both of you, each house. Got it?”

“Yeah, Chief,” Powell says, looking like he’s crazy. 

But they’ll do it; that’s all Jim cares about. He can’t afford to lose them to whatever the fuck the Mind Flayer is playing at this time. He gets in his truck and heads over to the Reynolds’ house. As he drives, he keeps an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. But there’s nothing, no demodogs, no weird holes in the ground. Maybe his instincts are wrong, he thinks.

The Reynolds’ house is a perfectly normal-looking colonial on a well-maintained cul-de-sac. Absolutely nothing interesting or special. Solidly middle of the road, both in design and cost. Jim knocks on the door, and then steps back, twirling his hat through his hands.

“Hello, Chief Hopper,” Sylvia Reynolds says when she opens the door. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“You called in a missing person’s report on your husband? I’m following up on that.”

“Walt?” She gives a little laugh. “Walt isn’t missing. How silly.”

“Are you saying you filed a false report?”

“No, no. I’m sorry, Chief Hopper. I just made a mistake.” She gives him a wide and happy smile. 

“That’s fine, ma’m, but once you file a report, I’m legally required to investigate. Where is Walt?”

The door opens wider. “I’m right here, Chief. Sylvia didn’t mean to bother you.”

Walt Reynolds gives him a jovial smile. “Everything is fine.”

“Everything is beautiful,” Sylvia says. Her smile hasn’t faded. “Would you like to come in, Chief Hopper? I’ve just made tea. It’s lovely.”

“Oh, yes, do come in, Chief,” Walt urges, his smile just as unnerving as hers.

The hairs on Jim’s neck rise. “Uh, no, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a full plate today. I’ll just check you folks off my to-do list and be on my way.”

He can feel their eyes on him all the way back to the truck.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters as he pulls away.

He keys the radio. “I’m headed back to the station, Flo. Callahan and Powell, return. Do not engage with any of the targets! Over.”

“Roger that.”

“Chief, Doctor Simpson said you could drop by his office for the autopsy report on the Hargroves. Over.”

“Thanks, Flo. I’ll stop by there and then meet at the station.”

Jim hits his blinker, and then does a U-turn in the mostly empty street to get to the doctor’s office. The parking lot is moderately busy for a Thursday, he notes. 

“Doc has a report for me?” he asks the receptionist, whose name he can’t recall at the moment, and he doesn’t want to be a creep and peer at the name tag on her chest. 

“Yes, Chief, he’s just finishing up. That Jenkins boy fell out of a tree again.”

The intercom buzzes and she waves him through. Jim walks past patient exam rooms, back to the doctor’s office. 

“Hey, Doc.”

“Chief, have a seat.” Doctor Simpson spins around and pulls a file out of his credenza. “I wanted to talk to you in person because there’s some anomalies about that Hargrove matter.”

“What kind of anomalies?” _Shit, shit, shit._

Doctor Simpson flips through the pages of the file. “According to your report, there were two adults, Neil and Susan Hargrove?”

“Yeah, should have been.”

“After weighing all the remains, I don’t find that there was enough present to constitute two adults.”

Jim scrubs his mustache, trying not to let his panic show. “The backdoor was open all night before the bodies were discovered. We saw some evidence of, uh, coyotes. Could that be the missing weight?”

Doctor Simpson shakes his head. “Not unless they dragged the other body off completely. While the subject body was in terrible condition, whether from the original attack or from scavengers as you say, I’m unable to determine. But my investigation indicates the only remains recovered was a female with red hair.”

“Susan Hargrove.”

“Most likely.”

“Then where the fuck is her husband?”

The doctor shrugs. “Not for me to say. But I can verify that he’s not in your morgue.”

Jim forces himself to walk calmly out of the doctor’s office, get in his truck, and drive to the station like a normal person. He breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the cruiser already parked when he returns to the station.

“Callahan, Powell, my office.”

As they take their seats, Jim looks at their faces carefully, trying to find any trace of the creepy blank happiness that Sylvia had. They seem fine as far as he can tell, and he decides that he’s got no choice but to trust them. 

“What did you find?”

“We’d only gotten to one house before you called us back, but the missing hubby had returned,” Powell says. “I figure they must’ve gone on a bender and didn’t want the wifey to know.”

“Maybe,” Jim says. “But there might be something else going on. Doc Simpson says there was only one body in the Hargrove house. Female.”

“Hargrove was a member of that poker game,” Callahan says. He looks a little sick. “He did _that_ to his wife?”

“Yeah. We have to assume he’s out there somewhere. Extremely dangerous. Do not approach him, understand?”

“What’s going on, Chief?” Powell asks.

“I don’t know. Something might have happened at that game. I don’t know what. But we’ve got to assume Neil Hargrove is responsible. We need to deal with him in numbers. No one by themselves.”

“Yeah, no problem. That guy is a lunatic.”

~~~

When he gets back to Loch Nora, Jim sees that Jonathan and Joyce have returned as well. Billy’s Camaro is parked on the street, in the same spot it was in the morning, so Jim assumes that he and Steve did as they were told and stayed put. He shudders to think what it will mean for Billy and Max if his suspicions are true.

The smell of tomato sauce leads him to the kitchen, where he finds Joyce at the stove with the boys acting as prep cooks. Jane and Max are sitting at the eating bar, giggling over a magazine.

He clears his throat. Joyce looks up with a smile. “Hop!”

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and then goes back to the stove. Jane and Steve stare at him with concern. 

“What is it?” Jane asks. “Don’t lie,” she forestalls him before he has a chance to dismiss her concern.

Jim takes her hand. “I need to know who it’s possessing. But I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“What is he talking about?” Billy asks.

“The In Between place,” Jane says. “The border. Where lost people are.”

She pats Jim’s hand. “I can do it. I need something to cover my eyes.”

Steve pulls out a dishtowel from a drawer. “This?”

“Yes.” 

She walks to the living room and they all trail after her. Jane sits on the floor in front of the television and Max settles beside her. Jane turns it on and fiddles with the dial until the screen is full of static-y snow. She wraps the towel around her head.

Her head jerks and turns as though she’s looking at something they can’t see. When the first stain of red oozes out of her nose, Jim hates himself a little bit. 

Jane rears back, making a distressed sound and then rips the towel off her eyes. She’s panting like she’s been running. 

“I saw him,” she says. She points to Billy. “The man who hurt you.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s Neil. The Mind Flayer has him.”

Billy snarls and lunges at Jim. “You said he was dead!”

Jim doesn’t make any attempt to evade him, but wraps his arms around him instead. Billy’s fists hit his shoulders, but don’t do any damage.

“Why did you let me think I got to have a life?” he wails. “Why did you let me think I could get away from him?”

“I’m sorry,” Jim says. “The available evidence said he was dead.”

“That’s not good enough!” Billy wrenches himself free, and stands panting. “I never would have . . .”

“You’re still strong,” Steve argues, reaching out like he’s going to try soothing Billy the way he’s been doing over the past few days.

Billy dodges him. “Get away from me.”

“But Steve’s right,” Jonathan says. “We can still fight. We knew it had _somebody_.”

“ _You_ can fight all you want,” Billy says. “I’m not fucking getting involved.”

“You’re stronger than him,” Max argues. “You can beat him.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve never been able to. He always wins. I can’t fight him.”

“But you’ve got us now,” Steve says. “You’ve got me, I can anchor you.”

“Anchor?”

“Yeah, the connection we have.”

“I don’t appreciate this mystical bullshit that says I’m bound to you all my fucking life. I didn’t choose this to happen, but I sure as shit don’t have to do anything about it.”

“You can’t hide your emotions from me, you know. I know you love me.”

“Yeah, I love you. But I fucking don’t want to. The last thing I want is to be bonded to you for the rest of my life.” 

Jim winces at the viciousness in Billy’s tone and the sickened look on Steve’s face.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m out of here. Fight your own fucking battles.”

“All right,” Steve answers. “I just . . . I’ll leave you alone. Be safe.”

Billy storms out of the house, stopping only to grab his jacket. They hear the roar of the Camaro a few minutes later, before the sound fades away.

“What the fuck? Why can’t he fight Neil?” Steve asks, his hurt clearly morphing into anger.

“Because he loves him,” Will answers softly.

“What? After all the shit he’s done?” Steve snorts.

“Abuse is never just physical,” Jim answers. “It’s emotional. Abusers deliberately make their victims feel powerless.”

“And it’s really hard not to be like them,” Jonathan adds. 

“Yeah. Okay. Message received,” Steve says, bitterness heavy in his tone. “I’m a dumbass for . . . giving my heart away.”

He scrubs his fist across his eyes. “We don’t need him anyway. We’ve done it before without him.”

Joyce smiles and pats his arm. “Of course, honey. We’ll be fine.”

Jim gently wipes the blood off Jane’s lip. “Did he see you?”

She nods solemnly.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out.”

~~~

Jim closes the door of John Harrington’s luxurious office behind him, and settles behind the mahogany desk, pulling the phone towards him. At this point, he has Owens’ direct number memorized. Dinner had been tense and unhappy. Jim hopes Owens will answer this late, because he really needs answers.

“Owens. This better be good, do you know what time it is?”

“It’s Jim Hopper.”

“Chief.”

“The shit just got worse. I hope you have some answers for me,” Jim barks into the phone.

“Worse how?”

“Neil Hargrove isn’t dead. The Mind Flayer is possessing him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. What can you tell me about that urban legend?”

“Okay, okay. The Army called them sense-enhanced. Pretty much exactly what the rumors said. Sight, smell, or hearing. They were mainly used as scouts.”

“Is it genetic?”

“They didn’t know. What they did know was that a few, a very few, less than half a percent of the men serving in Viet Nam, would respond to extreme battlefield trauma by activating their enhanced senses. None of them started out that way.”

“Could it be more than one sense?”

“Hmm, don’t see any record of that. Why?”

“The Hargrove kid says he has extra touch and taste to some extent, but he’s strongest with sight, hearing, and smell.”

“Maybe when this is all over, we could run some tests.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re not running tests on any more kids.”

“He’s already turned eighteen, not a kid much longer.”

“He’s just a kid. I don’t care if he’s technically an adult.”

“Okay. We’ll table that.”

“What about the spacing out thing he does? And the violence?”

“According to the reports, enhanced senses could cause a mental overload. The overload can manifest in two ways. The most common is a sort of petit mal seizure, but not from the same cause. The soldier would be mentally absent for hours at a time. The other manifestation is extreme temper leading to episodes of uncontrollable rage.”

“What was the prognosis?”

“Not good. The violent ones went to the stockade. None of them survived.”

“How?”

“They were on suicide watch, but usually got around that by forcing the guards to shoot them.”

“Shit. What about the absent ones?”

“If they couldn’t find a partner, the periods of spacing out got longer and longer until they couldn’t break free of it and wasted away. They were treated like coma patients, but none of them survived either.”

“Why was it so hard to find a partner?” 

“That’s the interesting thing. The Army didn’t have a clue as to why some of the sense-enhanced soldiers responded to some other people. They tried to figure out a common characteristic, but all they could find was a strong sense of empathy among the ones who worked out as partners for sense-enhanced soldiers.”

“Does it have to be a romantic partner?”

“No. The records indicate it could be anyone . . . friend, relative, whatever. But it tended to work better if the partners were intimately involved.”

“So the Army ignored its own regulations about same sex relations?”

“The Army turns a blind eye to many things when it suits them. There’s an order here from a General Bedford stating that any soldier tagged as ‘enhanced’ wouldn’t be subject to court martial or dishonorable discharge for violations of fraternization rules.”

“Any way we can talk to General Bedford?”

“I don’t know, Jim, the man would have to be at least in his seventies at this point.”

“Can you check? He seems to have more common sense than the rest of the bozos you work with.”

“I’ll look into it. The only other clue we have about these soldiers was written by a British anthropologist in Paraguay. Sir Richard Francis Burton.”

“Paraguay? What does that have to do with the Army?”

“Nothing direct, but Burton spent some time with the indigenous tribes in Paraguay and wrote a monograph titled _The Sentinels of Paraguay_ where he described how each tribe had a guardian, a tribe member who has better control of his senses than anyone else. Burton translated the word for their role as a ‘sentinel’.”

“That sounds like Billy Hargrove.”

“But there’s more. Burton said that each sentinel had what he translated as a ‘guide’ someone who helped the tribe member manage their enhanced senses.”

“So . . . Neil Hargrove? He was a sentinel?”

“Yes, he was classified as ‘enhanced sight.’ Army Rangers, 101th battalion. Sniper. Several commendations.”

“Did he have one of these . . . guides?”

“No. Never found a partner and was noted as violently opposed to the idea of working with anyone. All of the observations I can find say that the working relationship required a level of both emotional and physical intimacy. Hargrove likely objected to the idea of being physical with another man.”

“He’s a dick,” Hopper snorts. 

“His senses likely caused him no small amount of mental anguish,” Dr. Owens says.

“I don’t care what kind of trauma his senses caused him. He was too much of a homophobic asshole to use the solution to his problems. And Hargrove beat his kid to the point that the kid experienced the sort of trauma most people only find on the battlefield. He can burn in hell for all I care.”

He can hear Owens smiling over the telephone wire. “You’ve got no small amount of protective instincts for your little tribe, Chief.”

Jim sighs. “Tell me the Army figured out how to manage this.”

“The Army didn’t really do much research into this. It was too hard to predict who would show the traits, and after Tuskeegee, they couldn’t exactly expose soldiers to extreme stress and isolation in an attempt to get the trait to show up. Also, finding a partner wasn’t an exact science either. It was too chancy, so the Army dropped it.”

“So what do we have to do to keep Billy stable?”

“The only thing that has ever worked for the sense-enhanced that the Army could tell was the partner bond. A guide, to use Burton’s terminology.”

“Okay. Suppose he’s found someone who’s been able to stop him from spacing out and just generally calms him down.”

“According to everything in these records, he should be fine. They are probably going to behave . . . uh.”

“Handsy?”

“Yes, that would be one way to put it. Who did he bond with?”

“The Harrington kid.”

“Huh. He’s always seemed like your normal preppy rich boy to me.”

“Hidden depths, I guess,” Jim says. “Anything else useful about Hargrove?”

“Not really. Honorably discharged in 1967. Came stateside and got married. His wife left him ten years later and wound up dead in a back alley in Long Beach. Nothing more of note from the Army.”

“What about the mother? Did the police in California not get suspicious?”

“What’s one more dead junkie in California? No, her exit from Neil Hargrove’s life didn’t raise any suspicions with the Army either. By that time, no one was bothering to monitor those soldiers anymore. The ones with partners had assimilated into civilian life, and the ones without were mostly too busy getting high to worry about. The assumption was that the ones who came home and got married had found a partner to stabilize them.”

“That just doesn’t seem like something the Army would abandon completely. Not with the implications of enhanced soldiers,” Jim argues.

“Not the army,” Owens says. 

“Shit."

“Yeah. All of this information was available to Brenner. He used it as the basis for his research at the Hawkins lab. He thought if he could simulate the circumstances that caused those with enhanced senses with children, he could take it further than the usual five senses.”

“Another fucker that should burn in hell,” Jim states. “But why use children? Why not get some of the soldiers that the Army had already identified?”

“Women are easier to control than men. Society gives too much power over them. Women are far more likely to be confined to mental institutions against their will. Not to mention Dr. Freud’s opinions on their sexuality.”

“And children even more so.” 

“Exactly. Breeding his own individuals with super senses was far easier than trying to get trained fighters into his facility so he could poke around in their brains.”

“Did Neil Hargrove know about Brenner’s research?”

“There’s nothing in his file to indicate he’d have any reason to.”

“I don’t like it. What possible reason would a man like Hargrove have to move his family to Hawkins of all places?”

“Trying to get the son away from bad influences. Get back to the simple, small-town life?”

“No. I don’t buy it. There’s thousands of small towns in this country, and he happens to pick the one where Brenner has his lab? No.”

“Okay, if he knew about the research . . .”

“The Mind Flayer has him. If Hargrove knew about Brenner, then we’re all in way more danger than we thought.”

“I’ll look into it. I’m not sure what good it will do.”

“More information is always good.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your ETA?”

“We should have boots on the ground in twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Can you hold out?”

“We’re gonna have to, aren’t we?”


	11. Put Your Money On Me

Billy drives aimlessly, turning left every time, until he leaves the town behind and finds a road heading towards the setting sun. He’s tempted to keep going, to follow the sun over the mountains until the road and the land ends. A place to stand or a place to hide.

But he doesn’t think the Camaro has another cross-continental trip in her, and in any case he doesn’t have enough money for gas on him at the moment. The rumbling in his stomach reminds him that he left before dinner, so he ignores the impulse to put as much space between him and Neil as possible, and pulls into a small, tired-looking diner at the next crossroads.

He finds a seat in the back, where he can see everyone coming in and he can put a wall behind him. The waitress drops off a plastic coated menu. His hands tremble as he picks it up, and Billy curses himself for being a weak pussy. Just like his dad always said.

After a burger and a glass of milk, Billy feels a little steadier. But he can’t think through what he should do. His brain swirls in panicked circles. He knows he needs a plan, an escape hatch, but he’s exhausted, drained from the training earlier in the day, and from the wrench of severing his connection with Steve.

Outside the windows, the night presses in and Billy is afraid to imagine what kind of monsters are out there, hiding in the dark. The door chimes and he picks his head up in alarm, wondering who might be visiting this out-of-the-way place at such a late hour.

He snarls as Nancy Wheeler walks in and seats her dainty little ass across from him.

“Evening, Billy.”

“How did you find me, Wheeler?”

“Eleven.”

“Spit it out then get the fuck out of my face.”

“He’s still going to fight, you know. With or without you. He may never win fights, but he never runs away from them.”

“Then he’s even more of fuck-up than I thought.”

Billy doesn’t expect her to react to the insult, and she doesn’t disappoint him. The most he gets from her is a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Suit yourself,” she says. “As long as you understand the stakes, you can make your own decision.” 

Billy refuses to answer. 

She taps the table, and then gets up. “Try not to let the Mind Flayer catch you. We’ve got enough problems as it is.”

After she leaves, Billy thinks he should get an endless cup of coffee and stay here all night. But his tired brain is more vulnerable to spacing out, and there’s no one around to pull him out of it. Not Neil with his fists or Steve with his calming touch. Billy is afraid that he’d go into a zone and fade away forever.

He drops enough money on the table to cover the meal and the tip, and then leaves, all senses at full power, searching for threats. He makes it back to the Camaro without finding anything alarming. He sits in his car, trying to decide. He can’t go back; there’s nowhere to go behind him. He can’t go forward, not without sleep. 

Finally, he starts the car and eases down the road with the lights off. He pulls it behind an abandoned barn just up the road from the diner. None of the lights reach the shadows behind the building, but Billy can see the silhouette of a gigantic bear against the fence. Reassured that he at least has someone to watch his sleep, Billy locks the doors and crawls into the passenger seat. He finds an old T-shirt in the back, and after reclining the seat all the way, pillows his head on the shirt. He misses Steve like a constant ache in his chest, misses Steve’s calming presence, and more than anything, misses the physical intimacy of holding him. Steve had been willing to accept Billy’s touch like no one else in his life. But Neil wrecks everything good in Billy's life. 

In the morning, he’ll decide what he should do next.

~~~

By the time Billy wakes up the next day, the sun is already high and the Camaro is like an oven. He pants, hurriedly rolling the window down to get some fresh air. Hunger rakes claws through his stomach. The bear is sitting down, staring at him.

“Okay,” he grumbles. “I’ll go back.”

But he needs food first and he won’t risk going back to the diner. The bear gets up, shambling towards the road, before turning around, like it’s waiting for him.

“Are you going to help?”

Billy starts the engine, and pulls the car out of its hiding place cautiously. There’s nothing moving in either direction on the road. The bear starts down the road to the east, back towards town. Against all his better judgment and instincts, Billy follows.

The bear breaks into a gallop as the car gains speed, easily keeping up with it.

Billy goes where the bear leads, only stopping once, at McDonald’s for some breakfast biscuits. The servers grumble at him for getting breakfast just under the wire, but he takes the food back to the car and gobbles it down, feeling better immediately. The bear looks amused.

They get back on the road. The bear leads him through town and out to the other side, where Hawkins is expanding. The bear stops at the entrance to the new mall. Starcourt Mall. Billy had heard about it being built, but had turned his nose up at the idea. California has malls. California _invented_ malls and no Midwestern lame-ass attempt will ever come close to the greatness of the ones in California. 

But now he parks the Camaro in the vast mall parking lot, pocketing the keys while the bear waits for him. 

“Here? What the fuck is here?”

The bear waits until he joins it and they walk towards the entrance together. The bear gets through the doors somehow, despite them being too narrow for an animal of its size. Billy is done questioning the weird shit happening in his life. 

Once inside, the bear sticks close to him, subtly nudging him to whatever goal the animal has. In the early afternoon on a Friday, the place is surprisingly busy. Lots of older folks doing their mall walking, of course, but there’s a fair amount of kids who must be ditching. 

None of the shoppers seem to notice the bear, but on the other hand, they all give Billy a wide berth. 

They finally stop in front of an ice cream shop. The bear nudges him forward with its huge nose, guiding him to the side of the counter where a vaguely familiar girl is working. 

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy! What can I get you?” she says in what Billy can immediately tell is a falsely perky voice.

“I know you,” he says. “Buck, Buckle, something.”

“Robin Buckley. Yeah, we’re in Stats together, Hargrove.”

He glances back at the bear, which is staring intently at the girl. He mentally rolls his eyes, wondering how he’s going to figure out why the girl matters to the mostly invisible bear.

“So?” 

“What?”

“Are you going to order or not?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here? What plan does the universe have for us? Are we some mote in the eye of God?”

Billy stares at her. “Holy shit, I meant why aren’t you in school.”

“Then be more specific. I have senior release on Fridays. Leave at lunch. And I could ask you the same . . . what are you doing here? Clearly not for ice cream.”

Billy dials his senses in closer but can’t find anything out of the ordinary about her, besides her blue uniform looking like an extremely rough weave of polyester. 

He rubs his eyes, pulling his sight back to normal. “I don’t know. I need answers.” He remembers Hopper’s warning about odd happenings. The bear clearly thinks she’s important. “Have you seen anything weird?”

“Seen? No. Heard? Yes.” Robin gives him a speculative look. “I’ve got no reason to trust you.”

“I know. But there’s something going on, isn’t there? Who else are you going to tell?”

“Point.” She sighs. “You’ll think I’m looney tunes.”

Billy huffs. “You have no idea what kind of shit I’ve heard the last couple of days. I’m willing to listen to just about anything at this point.”

“Hey, Troy!” she shouts, “I’m going on break. Come on.”

She gestures him around the counter and to the back of the store. 

“Ugh, Buckley, don’t do anything gross,” the other kid says. 

“As if,” she mutters. “A story for another time,” she says in response to Billy’s confused look.

Robin drags him to a wall covered in heavily annotated blueprints. Billy stares at them with his enhanced sight but can’t decide what they mean, other than they appear to represent the mall. He glances at the bear, who is squeezed in between some packing crates, but the animal is studying the blueprints. 

“What am I looking at?”

Robin paces back and forth a few strides. “Let me just start from the beginning, before we get to that.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“A few days ago, I was on break and I heard some Russians talking.”

“Russians? Here? In the middle of Indiana?”

“I know, I know.”

“How did you know they were Russian?”

“I recognized a couple of the words. Anyway, I decided to tape them, just for fun, you know? A challenge to see if I could teach myself Russian.”

“God, why am I surrounded by nerds wherever I go?” Billy grumbles. 

“Do you want to know or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, continue,” he says.

“When I figured out what they were saying, it made zero sense. They were talking about deliveries and service entrances, and lower levels.”

“Well, this _is_ a mall. Stores get _new stuff_. How is this weird?” He tries to keep his tone friendly and encouraging, but if it weren’t for the bear, he would have written this whole thing off as a waste of time.

“Okay, I’ve been working at Scoops since day one. I was here for the ribbon cutting. Sadly, I spend most of my free time at this stupid place. There’s no stores that employ any Russians. There’s no lower level to this mall. It’s just the two floors, you see. That’s when I got the blueprints.”

“They look pretty official.”

“They are. I used an Open Records request and got them from the city planner’s office. These are copies of the ones the developer had to file with the city when they built Starcourt.”

Billy steps up to the wall, now paying attention to the highlighting and notes she’s added. “What’s this?” he asks, tapping a large void beside the elevator. 

“ _That_ is the weird thing you were wanting. See all these conduits? They lead down into that void.”

“Doesn’t the elevator need the space?”

“Not that much. Any elevator needs about one floor below the lowest floor to house the power supply and the cables. That space is more than one floor.”

“How can you tell that from the blueprints?”

“Not from them. I spent last week’s paycheck on a depth finder.”

“A what?”

“A depth finder. From Angler’s Paradise. It’s the anchor store on the north side. It’s a cheap wannabe Bass Pro Shop like the one they have in Missouri. You ever been there?”

“Do I look like I’ve been to Missouri?” Billy snorts.

“No, you don’t, surfer boy. Anyway, you’d be surprised at the gear you can find in a given sporting goods store that leans towards the outdoors. Fishermen use depth finders to find fish in big lakes. It works on sonar and it can tell you how deep the lake is.”

“So you used this sonar thing on the mall?”

“Yep. Now, given that it’s meant to work through water, not concrete, I can’t say for sure how accurate the readings are.”

“Just give me your best guess,” Billy prods. 

Robin looks worried, but he smiles at her, trying his best to look supportive. 

“I think there’s at least five floors below the elevator level.”

“Shit.”

Billy racks his brain, trying to remember what the nerd squad said about the gate. Five floors sound like enough space for what they described. But he could have sworn they said the gate was in some creepy lab out in the woods behind Steve’s house. 

But the bear led him here.

“You aren’t laughing at me,” Robin complains. “Why aren’t you laughing at me? This is batshit insane.”

“I told you, I’ve heard weirder shit this week.” Billy strides forward, carefully pulling the blueprints off the wall. 

“What are you doing?”

“I know some people you need to talk to. They’ll believe you. _I_ believe you. But I don’t think I can explain all this correctly and they need to hear it.”

“Wait, I need the Russian recording.” 

“Get it. Let’s go.”

Billy strides back to the front of the store. “Hey, Troy, you’re on your own.” He gives the boy a long look. He didn’t like the way Robin reacted to the teasing from earlier. “I guess you’re used to that though.”

“Fuck you.”

When Robin comes out with her bag, Billy wraps his arm around her shoulders and steers her to the door. 

“Whoo! Get it, Buckley! Didn’t think you had it in you!” Troy gives a last parting shot.

Once they’re out of sight of the store, Billy removes his arm.

“What was that?” Robin demands.

“I don’t really know. Giving you cover, maybe?”

“For what?”

Billy shrugs, done with the conversation. The bear is a solid presence on his other side, leading them back out of the mall. He hopes the Russians haven’t discovered Robin’s spying, because he’ll admit that he’s impressed with her resourcefulness. He might be putting her in danger, letting her in on all the crazy shit that simmers under Hawkins, but he figures the team could always use someone with her smarts. And if she’d already gone this far on her own, it’s better if she has back up.

Once clear of the mall, he leads her to the Camaro. 

“I’m not even sure what to say about this car. Or what it says about you,” Robin comments.

“It says I’m awesome. Get over it. If you can.” He smirks at her.

She rolls her eyes, but gets into the passenger side without complaint.

“Where are we going?”

Billy drums his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the bear keep pace with them, as he wonders where to start with explaining the whole mess. 

“I don’t know the whole story, for real. But there’s this whole other side to Hawkins. Like literally. They call it the Upside Down. And it’s some of the most fucked up, ballsed up shit. I don’t know where to start. I’m taking you to talk to the people who know about it. And can definitely explain it better than me.”

She stays quiet after that until they turn into Loch Nora.

“Wait, this is where the fancy people live. Are you sure we’re allowed in here?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Billy says. Although he wonders what the others, especially Steve, will say when he comes back. If they’ll tell him he’s not welcome anymore.

He parks on the street in front of Steve’s house. 

“Hey, I’ve been to a party here before,” Robin says. “This is Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s house!”

“The Hair?”

“Obviously.”

“Hmm, true.”

Billy gathers the blueprints out of the back seat, and turns to face the house. His stomach jumps with nerves. He’s well aware that the people inside that house have accepted him only because of Steve. And the one person in there who might not hate him at the moment is Max. He hopes she doesn’t anyway. They’ve come so far over the last six months; he doesn’t want to lose her.

He leads the way to the gate to the back yard. He’d rather try to slip in carefully instead of announcing his presence to the whole party. Robin follows him without comment.

Carefully lifting the latch of the gate, Billy steps quietly into the backyard. 

The first thing he sees is Steve, hunched on a pool lounger, with Nancy Wheeler curled up on one side of him, and Jonathan Byers on the other side. They have their arms around Steve, and Jonathan has his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, with Nancy tucked under his chin.

He doesn’t bother trying to hear what they’re saying. Steve clearly got what he’d wanted all along. Billy fucked up and lost him, and it looks like the other two have jumped into the space Billy left behind. A wave of sadness and longing crashes through him before Billy has a chance to lock it away. 

He backs out of the gate carefully, and waves to Robin, who’s looking confused. “Front door, come on.”

Deciding against walking into another awkward situation without warning again, Billy pauses at the large door, and increases the range of his hearing. They seem to be arguing the location of the gate.

 _“You said it yourself, Hopper - the lab is still abandoned and there’s no power there,_ ” little Wheeler is saying.

 _”Why there?”_ Hopper answers.

 _The mall makes perfect sense! The mall has to use an enormous amount of electricity, just to keep the lights on. And we’ve never had a mall before. Who knows how much power something like that actually uses?_ Henderson argues.

“That’s our cue,” Billy tells Robin, snickering slightly at her perplexed look. “Come on.”

He opens the door and heads for the living room, Robin trailing behind him. Everyone stops talking and stares when they walk in. Steve enters from the kitchen, trailed by Nancy and Jonathan.

“Oh. It’s you.” Dustin glares at him.

Billy pulls Robin forward. “This is Robin.”

“And?”

“She works at the mall.” Billy turns to Hopper. “You said to report if we saw anything weird. She saw something weird.”

Robin looks terrified, but Billy smiles at her. “Tell them. They’ll listen.”

He spreads the blueprints out on the dining room table, and the nerds crowd around. 

“This is Starcourt Mall,” Henderson says.

“Yeah, she’s about to verify your theory.”

Dustin narrows his eyes at Billy. “You were listening in.”

“Well, duh.” He leaves a space for Robin. “Tell them what you told me. About the Russians. And the lower levels.”

That gets everyone to shut up. 

She’s hesitant at first, but once she realizes they’re going to take her seriously, she gets into far more detail than she did with him. She’s passionate about her deductions, but she’s careful to describe the limitations of her speculation. The boys stare at her in open-mouthed awe as she describes her conclusions with the depth finder. Billy wonders if she realizes that she’s gaining a fan club.

When she finishes, the nerds crowd around her, asking excited questions. But Billy looks at Hopper, their de facto leader.

“Russians?” Hopper mutters. “For fuck’s sake. How the fuck did they manage this? In the fucking middle of America?”

“Shell corporations,” Steve says. “You can hide the real owners of any enterprise under layers of businesses. You’d have to be really dedicated to unwind all of it. My dad talks about doing it all the time.”

“And Mayor Kline probably never thought about double checking the developers of Starcourt once they offered to invest so much money in Hawkins,” Nancy adds.

“He’s on your Stepford Wives list, isn’t he?” Mike asks.

“Yeah he is. I can’t believe any of this is a coincidence,” Hopper grumbles.

“That would imply a level of involvement in this world by the creatures of the Upside Down and an understanding of our political systems and business practices,” Nancy argues. 

“I still don’t like it.”

“So what are we going to do?” Lucas asks.

“Joyce?” Hopper says. “Are you up for another mission?”

“Absolutely,” she smiles at him.

“Okay, I’m gonna get some artillery. Can you figure out how to get me and Joyce into those lower levels? We’ll get the gate shut down.”

“We can do that,” Robin says.

“Owens should be here with the Army at the latest sometime tomorrow, he says. We’ll try to hold out until we get reinforcements, but if not, I want us to have a way in _and_ a backup plan.”

“I can help,” Eleven says.

“No, you are staying out of this. Russians are just humans. Bullets will take care of them.”

Hopper turns to Billy. “Hargrove. Harrington. With me.”

Billy follows the chief reluctantly out the back to the pool. He avoids the lounger where Steve had been cuddling Jonathan and Nancy. Steve joins them, looking equally uncomfortable.

“Hopper? What is it?”

“I never got a chance to talk to you two yesterday. About what Owens told me. Have a seat.”

They settle into the patio chairs, Billy keeping his distance from Steve as much as reasonably possible. He’s got no excuse to feel so much hurt, but even though he deserves it, he can’t help how he feels. 

Hopper pulls out a cigarette, taps it on his thigh before lighting it. He takes a long draw and then slumps in his chair. 

“Did you come back to help?” he asks Billy finally. 

Billy nods. He can’t let Steve go into this fight without at least trying to save him. 

“Owens says there was some old British guy who wrote a paper about people like you. In South America. They were the guardians of the tribe.”

“South America?” Billy asks, puzzled.

“Yeah, Paraguay, but that doesn’t matter. The point is, you’re one of these guardians. He called them sentinels. You’re a sentinel. Not a freak or an abomination.”

 _Sentinel._ Billy rolls the term around in his head, trying it on. Trying that identity instead of the ones his father had hurled at him all his life. He finds that it fits him. He can be a sentinel. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I am.”

Hopper smiles approvingly, and then turns to Steve. “According to this Burton guy, every sentinel had a guide. A person who can help him manage his senses. An intermediary with the rest of the tribe. That’s you. You’re his guide.”

Steve looks troubled, but doesn’t argue. 

“Now,” Hopper continues. “I don’t pretend to understand whatever emotional complications you two have, but I need to know if you can work together. I need you both at full power, or however it works.”

“We’re weapons to you?” Steve asks.

“You want the truth? Yes. I’ve got a town to rescue and a daughter to protect. If the two of you give me an advantage, I’m taking it. Can you do it or not?”

Billy holds his breath. He’s not going to speak for them. He’s already said he came back to help, but whether he works with his guide or not is completely up to Steve. 

“These . . . sentinels and guides,” Steve asks. “Do they have to be romantic partners?”

Hopper shakes his head. “Not according to Owens. They can be platonic partners.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.”

He strides back into the house. Billy stays quiet, giving Steve time. He’s not going to pressure him into anything. He knows they have to have a certain amount of trust between them to function as sentinel and guide, but he may have destroyed all of that. 

“I’ll help you,” Steve says finally, after the silence has stretched to the breaking point.

“Okay.”

“But just for this fight. You’ll have to find someone else to be your guide after this.”

Billy doesn’t want another guide. He trusts Steve. “We could be platonic.”

“I don’t think we can ever be friends.”

Billy nods, unable to speak, locking everything away as deep as he can. Every hurt, every hope, every iota of sadness. He locks it all down. 

“I’ll always want more,” Steve continues. “But loving someone who doesn’t love you back is terrible. I’ll help you in this fight. But I can’t do more than that.”

“You think I don’t love you?”

“You said it yourself - you don’t want to.”

“Fuck.” 

Words will never convince Steve; not when the unthinking words Billy hurled at him in fear have hurt him too badly. 

Billy holds out his hand, hoping that Steve has some tiny remnant of trust in him. “Just. Here.” 

Steve looks at him for a long moment, but then places his hand in Billy’s. Lacing their fingers together, Billy opens their connection, and throws all his barriers down. Unlocks everything he’d just locked up. Not to push anything on Steve, but to open everything for Steve to see if he wants to. Every terrible thing he’s ever done, every hateful thought, all of it. All his shame, all his fears, all his self-loathing. But also every time he’s made Max laugh, and every time he danced with his mother, or cooked dinner before Susan got home from work. And every single thought or feeling he’s ever had about Steve. 

He’s taking a horrible risk, letting Steve see every hidden part of him. Steve could turn away in revulsion at the terrible person Billy is. But it’s the only way he can think of to show Steve how he feels. 

He can perceive Steve through their connection, can tell that he’s exploring what Billy has shown him. He’s relieved that Steve is trying to understand, instead of turning away. Billy stays passive, fighting his instincts to hide, and allows Steve to go where he will. When Steve brushes up against the memory of the incident that resulted in them moving to Hawkins, Billy nearly fights him, but he forces himself into stillness. 

Tears leak out of his eyes and he can’t stop them.

Finally, after an eternity, a warm hand cups the nape of his neck. Billy opens his eyes. Steve’s eyes are full of tears too, but he’s smiling. 

“That’s . . . a lot,” Steve says. “I think I understand now.”

Billy can’t speak, but he picks up their still-joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s fingers. 

“Too much?” he asks, his voice rough. 

“No. Not too much. It’s everything. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Okay. And you want it with me?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Okay.”

“Just . . . don’t be afraid, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” Billy responds.

“No, I mean it. We might die in this fight. Or die fifty years from now. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t live in fear.”

“Will you be my courage?”

Steve pulls their hands to his mouth. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t keep Billy and Steve broken up too long. And I originally didn’t have plans to include Robin because this fic had already gotten long and unwieldy but she wanted to have her say, so here we are. Sorry, Erica.


	12. Abraham's Daughter

Max is disappointed when she walks into the kitchen the next morning that none of the adults are whipping up something tasty for breakfast. Everyone is quiet, the adults mostly staring into their coffee cups and the boys digging into cereal bowls. Max fixes herself a bowl of Lucky Charms, thinking how she and Billy were never allowed sugary cereal under Neil’s roof. 

She’s glad Billy didn’t completely ruin things with Steve, and they’re back together. At least she thinks they are, but they didn’t have noisy sex the night before. Not like they did the first night. Maybe they just kept it really quiet. She’s pretty sure they’ve patched things up, but they’re being really careful and polite with each other. 

“Can I get you some coffee, Billy?” Steve asks.

“Yes, please,” Billy answers. 

Max wants to roll her eyes at them. Maybe they’ve realized they have the power to hurt each other. But it pains her that they’ve lost the ease they had around each other before Billy’s meltdown. 

After breakfast, Hopper pushes his chair back. “Joyce and I are going to the armory to get what we’ll need to get to the gate.”

“We’ll get the radio telemetry and long-range communications working,” Mike says. “Robin can help us with the gear she brought.” 

He gives the new girl a starry-eyed look, and Max sneaks a glance at Eleven, who looks murderous. Max catches her eye and shakes her head slightly. El relaxes but doesn’t look happy. Max supposes she’ll have to explain the consequences of breaking up with a boy, and how when you do that, you’re not allowed to be pissed off if he moves on. Also, she figures Eleven has nothing to worry about from Robin, because the older girl looks less than enthused about her new crew of admirers. 

“All right,” Hopper agrees. “I guess we get ready to wait on Owens. Unless something changes. Then we go with Plan B.”

Everyone scatters after that, but Max feels unaccountably restless. She wanders around the house, looking for something to do. 

Jonathan and Nancy disappear off somewhere, and the boys head to the basement with Robin.

Billy and Steve are out by the pool, on one of the loungers. The morning sunlight washes over them, bathing them in gold. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, Steve propped up on his elbow while they talk. They don’t look like they’re arguing, and both of them are smiling. They trade occasional kisses, but they don’t seem to be having a hot and heavy make-out session the way she’s seen them do over the past few days. They both look sort of peaceful and content. She’s glad for them. Billy can be a total shit, but he doesn’t deserve some of the things that have happened to him. And if he and Steve can find happiness together, she doesn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want it for them.

She goes to the basement where the boys are working on the radio, but feels herself getting annoyed at them and their constant nerd-talk. She wonders if she’s getting her period.

Trying to remember when her last one was, Max dares to go into the master suite, looking for supplies. She doesn’t have anything with her, but maybe there’s a chance Steve’s mother has some. But Max doesn’t want to use some strange woman’s period stuff. She wants her own stuff. She wants the calendar that her mother showed her how to use to keep track and find the pattern. She wants the pretty little zippered bag that her mother bought her to keep her pads in for school. 

She wants her mother. 

She’s tempted to crawl into the bed that Joyce and Hopper have been sharing and just bawl. And then she’s angry with herself for the urge. 

Upon leaving the room, she finds Eleven.

“You are sad.”

“More like bored,” Max sniffs. “Everybody has a job.”

“We could explore Steve’s house,” El offers. “He is . . . busy.”

Max smirks. “I’ll just bet.”

Hoping Steve won’t mind them being nosy, they start opening cabinets and closets. They find expired sleeping pills in the master bath, and a large variety of arthritis liniments in the hall bathroom. The closets in the hall are mostly full of sheets and towels, making Max wonder just how much linen three people really need.

“I wonder where the attic is,” Max says. 

“The attic?”

“Yeah, a place this big must have a huge attic. There should be a pull down door up here.”

Eleven shrugs, clearly not understanding the importance of investigating the attic. 

On the main floor, they look around carefully before easing into Mr. Harrington’s office. It’s as boring as every other office Max has ever been in, and despite their best efforts, they don’t find a safe hidden under any paintings or a secret passage behind the bookshelves.

Placing her hands on her hips, Max glares at the utterly ostentatious yet utterly bland office. 

“Rich people always have skeletons in their closets,” she proclaims.

El wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think Steve has any skeletons. Not even in his closet.”

“Now that he’s boinking my brother, he does.”

“Never mind,” she says to answer Eleven’s puzzled look. “Let’s try the garage. Sometimes the attic stairs are out there.”

Upon entering the Harrington garage, however, Max sees something far more intriguing than the potential attic . . . a shelf of neatly stacked sporting equipment, every one of Steve’s passing fads. On the bottom shelf, she can just see a pair of wheels and the end of a deck. 

“Oh my god, Steve used to shred?” She pushes a pair of roller skates out of the way and pulls the skateboard off the shelf. She frowns at its nearly pristine surface, just a few scuffs and scratches. “Not very hard, I guess.”

She looks at El. “I could teach you. If you want.”

El touches the skateboard softly and nods. 

Max hands the board to El and then locates the garage door button to raise the door. “Wait here. I’ll get mine.”

Steve’s street has a gentle slope and soon enough, Eleven is leaning easily into the turns, whooping with delight as she gains speed. 

“I want to go faster!” El demands.

Max looks around, considering their options. There’s no good place for any jumps and the street doesn’t change elevation much until it leaves Loch Nora.

“We could ride to my house,” she offers. “I’ve been wanting to get some of my stuff.”

“Jim will be mad,” Eleven says.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a bad idea.”

But Eleven smirks and raises up her hand. The skateboards follow her gesture. “I can protect us.”

“True. Okay, let me get my backpack so I can put stuff in it and a walkie, just in case. Then we’ll go.”

Max dodges back into the house, and checks on the locations of the rest of their group. They all seem occupied. Upstairs, she dumps all her school supplies out of her backpack and shoves the walkie-talkie into it. Her house keys are still in their inner pocket. She puts the garage door back down and then darts out the front door with no one the wiser. She knows they shouldn’t be doing this, but she just needs it.

They take off out of the neighborhood without incident, and Max guides them towards Old Cherry Lane, which is not actually that far by road, but a million miles away in terms of house size. 

When they arrive, there’s still police tape over the front door and Max gulps. But she steels herself and walks onto the porch, dropping her skateboard off on the way. She tests the door and finds it unlocked. With a glance at El, who follows behind, Max pushes the door open and steps into her home for the first time in days.

The living room is in disarray with chairs and end tables knocked over. The couch is out of position. In front of it is a large dark stain. It’s clearly been cleaned, but Max knows what it is. 

She stares at it, feeling shaky. Eleven puts her hand on her shoulder.

“I just needed to see. You know?”

El nods and Max fights back her tears. She wants to mourn her mother, to howl in anguish at the unfairness of it all. But she can’t, not yet. The future is too big of a thing to grasp, and she has to get through the present first. 

She wipes her eyes, and leads the way back to her room. 

They’re chatting over the things they bought at the mall last week when they hear the sound of a door closing.

They both freeze and Max mouths ‘what was that?’ to Eleven who shakes her head. 

Max is eyeing the window, and wondering how fast they can get out of it when her bedroom door bursts open, wrenched off its hinges as the frame cracks, pulling the drywall around it away from the studs. Max yelps and whirls around.

Neil stands in the ruins of the doorway, flanked by a demodog.

“You’re as stupid as your mother,” he says. 

Eleven raises her hands and a wooden shard from the ruined door rises into the air. 

“I don’t think so,” Neil says, batting the shard away with ease. “Fix her,” he says to the demodog.

The thing opens its flower-petal head, exposing endless rows of teeth, but instead of attacking Eleven with its terrible teeth, a tentacle shoots off from the center of the petals. It latches onto Eleven’s bare leg and she screams, falling to the floor. The tentacle retracts with a ripping and squishing sound, leaving El’s leg bloody. She’s howling in pain, clawing at the wound. 

Neil leans down and picks her up. She tries to fight him, but he easily corrals her hands and slings her over his shoulder. Eleven’s screaming dies down to muffled sobbing.

“My master has plans for you,” he says. “You are a fitting sacrifice to them. Too unruly to control but your power will add to the glory of Xa’epu. And once they have assimilated the other angry one, and my son takes his proper place as a servant of Xa’epu, they will overwhelm this plane.”

He turns away, preparing to leave with Eleven. He glances at the demodog. “Kill her.”

As the creature stalks her around her bed, Max decides the window isn’t her best option. She needs a weapon and there’s nothing within easy reach outside. The garage is closed. The demodog will catch her too quickly.

The demodog leans back on its haunches, lashing its tail, almost like a cat. Max waits as long as she dares and then jumps onto her bed, using its springs to propel her out of the room. 

She flees down the hall, through the living room, and to the kitchen, not daring to look back.

Max grabs her mother’s large cast iron skillet from its place on the stove, the one thing she’d ever yelled at Neil about, when he’d tried to wash it with soap. The pan is too heavy for Max to hold with one hand, but she swings it, keeping those dreadful jaws away from her. She doesn’t trust that whacking the creature with the pan will be enough to kill it, but she can’t get to another weapon and hold the skillet at the same time. She pretends she’s in a video game and she waits until the demodog lunges again, then she swings to the iron skillet against where its skull should be.

The iron makes a dreadful clang as it connects, but the beast goes down. Max rushes to the knife block sitting on the counter and grabs the butcher’s knife. She doesn’t know if demodogs have throats that can be sliced, but they definitely have spinal cords. She places the blade between two of the knobs on its back and presses. The knife slides through the gap in the vertebrae with ease and the demodog goes limp. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Max whispers.

She drops the skillet, but keeps the knife, dashing back out the front door for her skateboard. Once she’s outside, she pulls the walkie-talkie out of her backpack.

“This is Mad Max. Can anyone hear me? Over.”

“Max! Where the fuck are you? Over.”

“Dustin! El and I went to my house. Neil came and took El. There was a demodog, but I killed it. Over.”

He doesn’t reply and Max clips the walkie to her jeans, and keeps moving in a slow circle, looking in every direction in case of another attack. She keeps the knife at the ready. 

Finally, the radio squawks to life again. “Max? This is Hopper. We’re implementing the back up plan. Stay put. Billy and Steve are on the way to get you. Over.”

“Understood. Over and out.”

The minutes drag on and Max risks running around the back of the house to get into the kitchen to retrieve the frying pan. The dead demodog is oozing black blood on the tiles. She feels better once she has both knife and shield. 

Outside again, Max holds the knife against the handle of the frying pan, ready for another attack.

She nearly cries with relief when she hears the familiar rumble of the Camaro’s eight cylinders. Billy pulls up with a spray of gravel and Steve jumps out, bat in his hands, already scanning for threats. Max rushes forward and pulls the release on the passenger seat. She scrambles into the car, and Steve follows quickly, getting the door shut. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. She doesn’t mean to explain the rest, but it pops out anyway. “I missed her.”

Billy turns around in the driver’s seat. “Hopper says Neil would have found Eleven eventually. Figured out where we were hiding.”

Steve looks over the head rest. “And I’d rather not add demodogs to the shit that’s gone down at my house.”

“Thanks, guys.”

Billy nods to the frying pan. “You kill the demodog with that thing?”

Max holds up the knife too. “Yep.”

“You’re a badass, Mad Max.” He pops the clutch. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Susan might not matter too much in the context of the show, she was someone’s mother, and I thought we needed to hear from Max.


	13. Suburban War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: extreme homophobic language, Neil Hargrove

Billy peels out, away from Old Cherry Lane, hoping that he never darkens that door again. The house should be bulldozed, demolished to erase all the pain and sorrow contained within its walls.

“Where are we going?” Max asks.

“The mall,” Steve answers. “Dustin and Robin are headed up some hill that Dustin says will help with the radio signal. Everybody else is meeting us at the mall. Hopper and Joyce are headed for the tunnels.”

Steve turns around in his seat, observing her. “How are you doing?”

In the rearview, Billy sees Max making her face blank, a familiar expression he’s seen in his own mirror many times. 

“I’m fine,” she says.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Well, I think everything sucks.”

Max hides her smile, but her eyes are easier. Billy loves them both so much, and he’s completely taken aback by the emotion. He’d tried so hard to stay aloof, to not let anything touch him while he tried to survive his childhood. He didn’t ask for either of them in his life, yet here they are. 

If they all live through this . . . but Billy shuts that thought down. He’s learned enough about dealing with violence that he knows thinking ahead is never a good idea. Imagining you might escape makes you sloppy and vulnerable. 

As they race towards Starcourt Mall, Billy is gratified to see the familiar shape of his guardian bear joined by Steve’s wolf racing alongside them. Both animals stay with the car the whole way. 

The turnoff to the mall is in sight when the radio squawks to life. 

_”We’ve got her!”_ Nancy says through the radio. _“She got away from him. We’re going to take her to Dustin and Robin.”_

Max hands the radio to Steve, who keys the mike. “Roger that.”

A moment later, she comes on again. _The car won’t start!_

Billy doesn’t slow down for the turn, throwing the wheel over hard as the muscle car digs into the curve.

_”He’s going to ram us!_

Billy focuses on the parking lot, taking in the locations of all the players in the current clusterfuck. He can see the white truck heading for the station wagon just outside the mall doors. Nancy Wheeler is standing in front of the car, her gun drawn on Neil. Billy will give her credit for balls, but he doesn’t think a bullet is enough to take out Neil. The evil bastard will just keep coming. The monster in Billy’s personal horror movie. 

“Buckle up,” Billy orders. “Max, get down!”

“Shit, what are you . . .?”

“Buckle the fuck up!”

Billy downshifts, getting the rpms up near the red line. “Come on, baby, give me all your juice.”

The engine screams at him as he floors the gas pedal, sending the tachometer needle dangerously close to engine melt down. At the last second, he shifts, and the car leaps forward. He angles through the deserted parking lot, taking course to head Neil off.

His father isn’t paying attention to anything except Nancy and Jonathan, trapped against the Wheeler’s station wagon. Billy turns his hearing down as far as he can.

“Brace yourselves.” 

Billy’s Camaro dies in a cacophony of shrieking metal and shattering glass.

~~~

Once the noise dies away and the Camaro settles into place, mercifully right side up, thanks to its low-slung profile, Billy slowly picks his head up from where he’d ducked when they crashed. The windshield is a maze of crazed glass but he’s not wearing it, and the hood is crumpled but he doesn’t have the engine in his lap, so he counts the whole thing as an overall success.

Everything seems underwater, and he remembers to dial his hearing up. Just to normal range. He isn’t ready to deal with anything else yet.

Through the shattered windshield, he can just make out the dim outline of the pickup truck, on its side, one wheel spinning slowly. He has no idea where Neil is, but he sure that he’s not lucky enough to have taken his father out so easily. 

Billy turns to his passengers.

“Steve? Babe?”

Billy reaches over and wrestles with Steve’s seat belt. The latch won’t give at first because there’s so much tension on it, but it finally clicks open. Steve slumps back in the seat.

Laying a hand on Steve’s chest, Billy begs, “Please, Steve.”

Steve turns his head and grins at him. There’s a cut over his eye, but he’s present and that’s all Billy can ask for at the moment. Steve opens the passenger door and tumbles out onto the asphalt. The wolf licks Steve’s face, and Steve rouses enough to wrap his arms around its neck.

Billy turns around just as Max is picking herself up out of the footwell. “Max?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Take care of Steve, okay? I gotta go get El.”

Max crawls over the console while Billy is getting out of his seatbelt. She grabs his arm.

“Don’t die.”

“Max.”

“No, I mean it. Promise you won’t die.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

She hiccups. “Promise you’ll try.”

He leans forward and kisses her forehead. “You’re the best sister anyone could ask for. I promise I’ll try.”

As Billy races for the mall entrance, he considers the identity he’d accepted the night before. Sentinel. Guardian of the tribe. Guardian of a tribe of lunatics, in his case. But also protector of his mate and guide. And his sister. 

He may not know much about this Upside Down shit, but one thing he understands perfectly is Neil Hargrove. 

There’s no way that his father gaining access to Eleven’s powers could be anything other than an utter disaster. So Billy has to trust that Max and Steve can take care of themselves. Because he’s the only thing standing between his tribe and disaster. 

Darkness covers the mall, bleeding from a hole in the sky.

The bear goes with him, galloping beside him. Billy sends his senses out, ranging forward, hearing turned up to the max, sight dialed in, trying to find Eleven before Neil does. 

Once he charges through the main entrance to the mall, he slows down. From what Max had described, Eleven had been injured and probably couldn’t go far. Scanning down the hallways, he doesn’t see any sign of Neil or any of the monsters. Lots of shoppers are puzzled by the color of the sky and talking about tornadoes. Billy searches the crowds but can find no trace of El. The bear doesn’t seem to be concentrating on her at all, staring at the sky instead. Billy wonders if he should be worried about the bear’s preoccupation, but decides to find the girl first and worry about everything else later.

Billy has spent the last few days with Eleven, sometimes in extremely close proximity. Close enough that he’s let her into his head. He casts his mind back to their interactions, remembering her breathing patterns, her smell. He turns his hearing and sense of smell up as far as he can, closing his eyes to keep out any distractions. 

He hears pained and frantic panting from behind a large round planter near the center of the atrium. Billy opens his eyes. The mall is even darker and people are starting to mill by the door. He weaves his way through the shoppers, circling around the planter.

He finds Eleven on the ground behind it, clutching her leg.

“Hey, kid,” he says crouching in front of her. “Can I see?”

“There’s something in there,” Eleven answers, taking her hands away. 

Billy sucks in his breath. There’s a large black thorn-looking thing, except it’s pulsing. He picks up her ankle, keeping his hands away from her wound. He narrows in his sight, but it tells him nothing except that the thing is wrong, something that doesn’t belong to their world. 

“And I can’t . . . I’m not working.” She raises her hands impotently. 

“We need to get that out first,” Billy says. He doesn’t know if the thorn is blocking her powers or not, but it’s from the Upside Down and it doesn’t belong in her flesh. He digs in his jeans and pulls out his pocketknife. “I”m sorry, but this is gonna hurt. Can you put the tail of your shirt in your mouth?”

She does as he asks, eyes fearful, but he doesn’t know what else to say to reassure her. 

“Bite down.”

Using his dialed-in sight, Billy sets the blade at the boundary of her flesh and the black monster fragment. He cuts carefully around, holding her leg steady and refusing to let her pull away. Once he’s circled it, he lifts it out of her with the knife blade and then flicks it away onto the floor. 

Holding out his hand, Billy pulls her to her feet. Eleven wraps her arm around his waist as she limps on her wounded ankle. They walk around to the other side of the planter, headed for the doors.

Neil steps out from behind a pillar supporting the second floor. Behind him, a shape of horror rises up, a many-legged abomination that has no place in reality. 

Eleven gasps, and Billy immediately shoves her behind him. 

He squares up to face his father, but he sends his sense outwards. Not his eyes, because if he has to look at the wrongness that are things from the Upside Down too much, he will puke. But smell and hearing seem safe enough.

Sense of smell isn’t his strongest sense, but it’s adequate here.

The monster smells like people. Like humans.

With sickening clarity, Billy realizes how the monster got so big and where the missing persons Hopper told them about had gone. In his horror, he tries to shut his sense of smell down.

“How could you?” he asks Neil.

“They are inferior. My lord Xa’epu will take them all from this realm. You and I are the pinnacle of genetic evolution, a better species. While Xa’epu conquers this world, you and I will be their most honored servants.”

Billy shakes his head, appalled at the weird light in Neil’s eyes, a kind of unholy glee he’d only ever seen on his father’s face before when he was ‘punishing’ Billy for whatever the current transgression had been. At this moment, Billy sees that the abuse he’d endured at his father’s hands had been the result of a flaw in Neil. An instinct for sadism that had nothing to do with Billy. That he probably couldn’t exercise in a country at peace. Except on his own kid.

“No,” he whispers, frightened by his defiance. The bear leans against his legs, offering support. Billy wants to be worthy of the animal’s trust.

Instead of blowing up as Billy expects him to do, Neil just smiles. 

“You think you’re a tough guy, eh? You think your senses give you power, boy?” He throws his head back and laughs. 

The maniacal cackle scares Billy more than anything else. He forces his knees to lock, fighting against the urge to surrender to his father. There’s too much riding on it this time, not just his own safety anymore. He can’t give in like he’s always done in the past. 

Then another voice reaches his ears. 

_“I’m here.”_

His guide. He can’t afford to look for Steve; it’s taking every bit of his willpower to resist his father. But knowing Steve is with him gives him strength. He focuses his hearing on Steve so he won’t miss anything his guide tells him.

“We may be the superior species but we have weaknesses. Xa’epu knows how we work. If you don’t come willingly, they will force you into a zone, take your mind while you’re helpless. When you wake up, you’ll serve them. Do the right thing for once, you dumbshit.”

“I won’t serve that . . . thing.”

“Give me the girl!” Neil demands. “My Lord Xa’epu has need of her power.”

“No.”

“What have I told you about respect and responsibility? I gave you an order, boy.”

Billy thinks that maybe this is the most important battle he’ll ever face. That the only way he can win is to throw off years of conditioned obedience. To defy his father and risk losing everything, even his life. But he remembers a seven-foot wave and a glorious day on the beach, and Eleven sharing it with him. 

“Never.”

The monster heaves up behind Neil. Demodogs flank it, flower mouths opening.

“We are Xa’epu. We shall conquer this realm and all shall worship us. All shall provide flesh for our being in this place. Join us. You shall be our beloved servant along with your father.”

The monster speaks without words, but its meaning is clear. Its voice rattles in Billy’s skull and he would cover his ears to stop it, but he doesn’t think that would help. The power of the monstrous voice is undeniable, but Billy pulled his long-absent courage up to resist Neil and he won’t let it go now.

“I won’t help you.”

“Then we will take you by force, young one! Look and lose yourself!”

The lights in the mall start to flash in a mesmerizing pattern. Billy closes his eyes to avoid looking, but knows that he can’t keep them closed for very long. With the demodogs advancing, he can’t afford to be blind.

_Focus on me. Follow my voice._

Billy turns his head in the direction Steve’s voice came from, opening his eyes and finding his guide outside of Angler’s Paradise with Wheeler, Byers, and Sinclair. Steve gives him a wave. Billy turns his head away before Neil can realize what he’s looking at.

_Lucas says to try to filter it. See only red light. I don’t know what he means._

But Billy does. He’d enjoyed physics. But seeing in nanometers will take a level of fine-tuning his eyes that he’s never tried before. He thinks about a prism, about breaking the light into rainbows. He turns the imaginary dial on his vision, going past the microscopic level and diving into the realm of nanometers. The light splits into its component colors. Once he’s done that, he starts pulling his eyesight back, discarding the shorter wavelengths of blue and green until the whole mall is bathed in red light. 

He’s trembling with the effort of controlling his eyes to such a degree, but the light is no longer an alluring trap for his mind. He’s in no danger of zoning. Behind him, Eleven shakes where she’s curled up against his back. He pats her hand, trying to reassure her that he won’t let any monsters, human or otherwise, take her. But he unwraps her arm from his waist, needing the freedom to fight. He hopes that she’ll have enough sense to get to Wheeler and out of the way, but he can’t give her anymore attention. 

He needs everything he’s got to survive this final confrontation with Neil. Because one way or another, only one of them is leaving this mall. Or maybe it will be neither of them, and Billy’s fine with that. 

For the first time in his life, Billy takes the fight to his father, stepping forward into Neil’s space.

“That the best you got?”

He easily dodges the fist coming his way. 

“How?” Neil snarls. “How can you resist the lights?”

“Because I have a guide,” Billy answers. “Something you’re too much of an asshole to deserve.”

The bear roars as the demodogs charge. Billy doesn’t know which threat is the worst, but the bear swipes at one of the ‘dogs, hurling it away. Apparently the bear can physically affect the demodogs, even if he doesn’t seem to be present to anyone but Billy most of the time. 

He ignores the demodogs in favor of concentrating on his father and the monster.

Neil’s face convulses in disgust. “You spread your legs like some slutty little bitch? You know what happens to fags? Your ass is going to get so loose all the shit will run down your leg. You’ll be in diapers before you’re twenty. You’re revolting.”

His father hurls hateful words at him, words Billy’s heard all his life. Words that stab him, creating wounds that come to the surface, that have always been there, that he’s tried to disguise by covering them in layers of rage and disdain. Billy feels himself shrinking, time running backwards until he’s seven years old again and he’s hearing them for the first time, hearing what a mistake he is, his very existence a blight, an affront to nature.

“No, I’m not those things,” he whispers to himself, desperately trying to cling to the identity he’d taken the night before. “I’m a sentinel. A protector.”

But he feels like a little kid again, cowering down in front of an enraged adult, trying to make himself small and unnoticed. His earlier courage deserts him. 

“Your guide is nothing, a useless fag like you. You can’t fight me. You’re too much of a pussy!”

And Billy can’t. He’s frozen. He sees the golden bear confront the monster, reared back on its hind legs and claws extended, roaring its challenge. He knows it wants him to fight, but he can’t resist the effect the horrible words have on him. Shame curls in his gut. He’s going to lose the battle, just because he can’t shake off the vile things spewing from his father’s mouth. 

He sees Steve’s wolf bounding through the debris and he wants to shout at it to take Steve to safety, but his voice is frozen. 

Then Steve is there, hand warm on his shoulder, stepping between him and Neil. 

“He can’t. But I can. Because I’m his fucking guide.”

And Steve swings a long knife, catching Neil in the throat and slicing it nearly to the spine, a blow born of rage and love. Neil dies with a look of surprise, and Billy knows his father badly miscalculated about Steve. He has no time for relief.

Steve wraps his fingers around the handles of another knife. A machete? 

“They have fireworks,” Steve says. “Turn your hearing down. Listen for me. Use your eyes. See between seconds.”

The monster sprouts tentacles, shooting up from every direction. And then the mall lights up with dazzling colors of light. The fireworks. 

Billy recalls the timbre of Steve’s voice and filters out any other sounds except Steve’s wavelength. 

Steve is shouting as he swings the machete, lopping off one of the tentacles. Billy pulls himself together, stepping forward and getting another of the swaying appendages. The machete connects solidly, slicing through the monster’s flesh. Steve gives him a grin and a wink. Billy nearly laughs, but there’s no time anymore as more tentacles converge on them. 

He and Steve fight together like they’ve been doing it all their lives, slashing and hacking at every bit of monster flesh that presents itself. He keeps careful track of his guide, making sure that Steve is as safe as possible. The bear and the wolf take out the demodogs, leaving Billy and Steve free to concentrate on the monster.

But then Billy sees Steve stop what he’s doing and key the microphone clipped to his shirt.

_What is it, Dustin?_

Billy dials his hearing up enough to hear the tinny sounds coming through the walkie-talkie. The course of the battle has separated them, and Steve is on the far side of the atrium, but Billy manages to focus enough to hear it.

_Hopper and Joyce are in trouble!_ Henderson responds.

_What’s wrong?_ Steve asks.

_The kill switch has a six-digit lock code! Too many to get by chance!_

_The code. That’s what the Russians meant about Mr. Plank. It’s Planck’s constant. Does anyone know it?_ Robin shouts.

Billy remembers memorizing long, complicated numbers to avoid spacing out . . . pi to fifty places, Fibonacci’s sequence, Avogadro’s number. And Planck’s constant. He doesn’t have a walkie though, and he has no way to tell Steve. 

The bear roars, slicing through one last demodog and then turning to face Billy. 

“Can you do it, buddy?” Billy asks, holding its gaze. “Can you get the message to Steve?”

Turning its head, the bear looks around until it focuses on the wolf. The wolf stops fighting and turns towards the bear. 

“Okay,” Billy says as the bear looks back at him. He concentrates everything he has on the animal.

“Six.”

Like an echo, he hears Steve repeat the number into the microphone. _Six_.

“Six again.” 

_Six. Yes, another six._

“Two.” 

Billy strains with the effort of communicating with the bear. He drops the machete, unable to keep moving and hold the animal’s gaze at the same time.

_Two._

“Another six.” 

Time slows down and stretches out.

_Another six._

“Zero.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy sees the tentacle headed towards him. His vision splits its movement into fractions of seconds, but he can’t move away from it without risking his connection to the bear.

It enters his side and his world is awash in pain, it covers everything. He can’t see very well, everything going blurry and the sounds retreat, like he’s underwater. Like he misjudged a wave and it crashed on him, driving him under.

_Zero_ , Steve tells Dustin.

Billy locks his knees, fighting against the pain in his side. Another tentacle appears in his sight, aimed straight towards his chest, but Billy doesn’t move, holding the bear’s gaze. 

“Seven.” 

He says the final numeral, and waits for the tentacle to impale him. He’d accepted this likely outcome when he’d turned the Camaro around and gone back to Hawkins to fight. He’s always known that Neil would end up killing him.

But someone cuts it off before it gets to him. Steve. And then Steve severs the other one, the one gouging into his side and Billy can’t stand up anymore. 

_Seven!_ Steve shouts into the walkie-talkie.

Steve grabs him just as the whole world tilts. The floor of the mall heaves and rocks, and when the monster explodes, Billy realizes it isn’t just him that’s falling. Around them, concrete buckles and planters topple. Below them, the gate explodes in a shower of heat and sound that washes over Billy’s senses. Men run by, soldiers, with guns and lights. 

Everything is too much, too confusing, too loud. The pain in his side spreads to his whole body, clawing at him. The familiar blankness of a zone calls to him. Billy doesn’t want to resist, wants to take the easy way to oblivion and escape the pain.

But Steve is saying, “No, you can’t go. Focus on me.”

Steve’s hand on his cheek is warm and soft. The only thing in his body that doesn’t hurt. Billy tries to concentrate on the feeling.

Two unfamiliar men approach them.

“Dr. Owens,” Steve says.

“This is General Bedford,” the first man says.

“A guide. And his sentinel,” the old man says. He grips Steve’s shoulder. “You have to help him tune out the pain. Don’t let it overwhelm his senses. If he zones right now, he’ll never find the way back.”

The words don’t make any sense and Billy struggles to understand, but the pain is too much. The only thing he can focus on is Steve, his guide, still with him.

The general turns to the soldiers attending Billy. “Don’t separate them. You’ll lose him if you do.”

Steve presses his forehead against Billy’s. “Remember the microscope? I want you to turn everything down. Okay?”

Billy can’t answer him, can’t move against the pain crashing through him. He wants to retreat, to go inside himself to get away from it. But Steve’s voice is a thread that he clings to and he tries desperately to do what Steve wants. To remember the day of training in the basement. 

“Reduce it, pull back,” Steve insists.

Billy struggles to find control amidst the searing agony in his nerve endings. Then suddenly his brain is full of the bear, and he grasps onto it. Its presence calms him enough that he can picture the knob of a microscope and turn it in his mind. 

“That’s it,” Steve says. “You can do this, you’re so strong, the strongest person I know.”

Clinging to Steve’s voice, Billy fights against the urges of his senses. All the other sounds fade away, the commands of the medics, the noises of the soldiers sweeping the mall, the dying explosion of the gate closing. Steve’s voice is the only thing in his universe as he finally brings the pain under control. 

Something fits over his mouth, but Steve tells him to let it happen, and Billy doesn’t fight it this time as soft darkness covers him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone read David Eddings? Although this chapter may seem a little Star Wars-y, the real inspiration for Billy’s confrontation with Neil was Polgara turning down Torak in _The Belgariad_.


	14. Epilogue: It’s Never Over (Hey Orpheus)

The world comes back to Billy gradually. He recognizes the sounds and smells as belonging to a hospital. The wound in his side is a dull ache, and his veins are coursing with some heavy-duty painkillers. Careful inventory of the rest of him reveals no injuries other than some minor bruises and scrapes. His throat is raw and he’s thirsty, but nothing out of the ordinary.

He focuses on the room he’s in, filtering out the sounds of the machines attached to him. He doesn’t want to open his eyes until he knows what he’s dealing with. He’s been in this position before, waking to find his father glaring at him, already planning the next punishment. Billy doesn’t want to be taken unawares if that’s the case.

He thinks he remembers Neil dying, but he’d been told the man was dead before, when it didn’t turn out to be true.

There’s two people in the room with him, one is sleeping, and the other is awake, but calm and relaxed. Neither seems to be Neil, so Billy opens his eyes.

The sleeping person turns out to be Steve Harrington, curled up in a cot shoved up against Billy’s hospital bed. His hair covers his face, and the timber wolf is on the cot with him, asleep against Steve’s back. The animal picks its head up when it senses Billy watching it. Billy smiles at the wolf.

Just past the cot, Billy can see the large shape of his guardian bear. The light catches its golden fur and the animal rolls over lazily, a picture of indolence.

Continuing his survey of the room, he finds Chief Hopper sitting in the visitor’s chair, a stack of file folders on his lap. He’s watching Billy with amusement.

“Welcome back, kid,” he says.

“Chief,” Billy acknowledges. “Steve?”

“He’s fine. They stitched up his face from where he hit the dashboard, monitored him for a concussion, which he didn’t have, luckily. Just a few bumps and bruises.” 

"And Max?”

“She’s fine. Worried about you.”

The policeman waits a few beats. “Not curious about yourself?”

“I’m alive,” Billy responds. “That’s more than I expected. But go ahead, I can tell you want to.”

“You lost your spleen,” Hopper says. “That’s the biggest thing. Other than that, same as Steve. A few bumps.”

“My spleen?” Billy asks, alarmed. What does a spleen do? Biology had never been his best subject.

Hopper says, “As I understand it, you have to be more careful about infections, but you should be okay.”

“Okay. What about Neil?” Billy swallows. “Is he really dead this time?”

Hopper nods solemnly. “I saw his body myself. He’s deader than dead. Someone nearly took his head off.”

“I couldn’t,” Billy says. “I wanted to, fuck did I want to.”

The chief leans forward. “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I hear what you’re saying. I’ve been in your shoes. And I know how it is. I’m not good at feelings, but if you need to talk . . .”

“Thanks,” Billy says to be polite. He plans to bury all his feelings about his father as deep as he can. He’s more concerned about protecting Steve at this point. “What about his death certificate?”

“I’ve ruled it an accident and have no plans to ask any questions about it. He died, along with several other townspeople, in a gas explosion at Starcourt Mall caused by improperly laid gas lines. End of story.”

“Okay. Good.”

“If you need anything, I’ll do whatever I can for you. I . . . thank you. For saving Jane. And don’t say it was nothing! It’s everything to me.”

“All right. Well, you’re welcome, I guess.” Billy nods. He would squirm if he was vertical. “Anybody would have.”

“The point is, you did.”

Billy reminds himself that he’s a sentinel, but he’s not used to being praised for anything, so it’s a little hard to accept. He’s usually the problem. He supposes he’ll need to take his time to get used to the idea.

“What about everyone else?” he asks to deflect attention from himself.

Hopper smirks like he knows what Billy is doing. “We all survived. But Joyce and I have talked. We’re leaving. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Where are you going?”

“Chicago. She’s taking the kids as soon as school’s out. I’m going to follow as soon as I can get someone in my place.”

“What if,” Billy says carefully. “What if I want to leave too?”

Hopper grins. “Here’s where I can help you, kid. In a little while Dr. Owens is going to come in here and want you to sign _several_ non-disclosure agreements. Before you do that, use your leverage. They owe you. Figure out what you need, and then get it in exchange for your silence on the whole mess.”

“You speaking from experience?”

“Fuck yeah. They can pull strings and grease any number of palms. Take advantage of it.”

“Understood. Thanks.” 

In the cot beside him, Steve turns over, scrubbing at his face before opening his eyes blearily. 

Hopper stands up. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Billy turns over carefully, mindful of his wounds, to face the cot. Steve gives him a sleepy smile and sits up, gathering the blankets around his lap. He’s no longer wearing his monster-goo stained clothes, but has a fresh set of hospital scrubs on.

“You still with me?” Billy asks.

“Yeah,” Steve yawns. “General Bedford made them let me stay.”

Billy smiles. “Not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“Us. Not sure what day it is, but this has been . . . fast. If you have regrets . . . Well. I’m an asshole.”

Steve peers at him through his wild thicket of hair. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No! Never.” Billy wants to tell Steve that he thinks Steve’s it for him. That there won’t ever be anyone else for him, no matter what happens to them. 

Scooching forward on the cot until he can lay his head on the hospital bed beside Billy’s, Steve says, “It’s Monday.”

He reaches out, placing his hand on Billy’s chest. “I’m an asshole too.”

Billy moves the hand not stuck full of an IV needle and covers Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m in.”

Billy drifts for a bit then, but when he comes back, their hands are still entangled, but Steve is propped up on his elbow, scritching his fingers through Billy’s hair. Billy tilts his face up, seeking contact, and Steve obliges him, moving into range until their lips meet.

The kiss settles things inside Billy, soothing his anxiety and easing the pain in his body.

“How are you doing?” Steve asks. “I mean, all things considered.”

_All things._ That’s a lot of things, Billy thinks. If it’s only Monday, it’s been a hell of a week. He’s minus his spleen, but he’s gained the sort of lover he’s dreamed of ever since he understood what having a romantic partner meant. He’s physically battered, but he’s found a purpose for his weird gifts. And the monster in his nightmares is dead. For real, this time.

“I’m okay,” Billy says. “With everything. Especially Neil.”

Steve sighs, looking troubled.

“Why did you do that?” Billy asks.

“I couldn’t let you kill your own father. No matter what he did, he’s still your father. And maybe you can’t forgive me for it, but you won’t have to forgive yourself for it. Not for that.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“But you still lost your father. Because of what I did."

“No, he lost himself. A long time ago.” Billy thinks back over all the times he’d held out hope that Neil would change, that he would become a proper father, only to be disappointed every time. “The only difference now is I get to move on, and let him go.”

Steve nods solemnly. “No matter how much they suck, and how much we disappoint them, there’s always a part of us, of me, that wants to keep trying.”

“Yeah, but I’m free of that now,” Billy sighs. 

“What next?” Steve asks.

Billy considers. “Hopper says the government owes us. I know what I’d like, but what do you want?”

Steve shrugs. “I go where you go.”

~~~

Right around the time Steve leaves to find some food, Joyce shows up with the nerd squad in tow. Billy suspects a conspiracy to keep him from being alone.

They’re a little subdued, and Billy remembers what Hopper said about the Byers and Eleven leaving. But then Will and Lucas reenact Steve and Billy’s battle with the Mind Flayer, with Dustin playing the tentacle monster. And Billy laughs hard enough to hurt his stitches. 

“That’s enough,” Joyce says. “Billy needs to rest.” 

She herds them out of the room, stopping to rest a gentle hand on his forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “You did good, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers.” 

Eleven and Max stay behind. Eleven looks like she’s swallowed a frog. Billy sighs. “Spit it out, kid.”

“Thank you,” she says. “For saving me. For fighting when I couldn’t.”

Billy holds out his hand. “Us super-powered weirdos gotta stick together.” 

She shakes his hand, but then leans in and kisses his cheek. And then blushes and runs out of the room. 

Max remains, shifting from foot to foot, and glancing around the room, everywhere but at him. Billy smiles internally. His fierce little sister. Just as uncomfortable with emotions as he is. Funny how they ended up in the same family, no blood between them, but still alike in so many ways.

He points to the cot. “Sit.”

Not arguing with him for once, she does as he asked, perching on the cot, but looking like she’s going to bolt.

“You okay?” he asks. “I mean, you know, physically.”

Max snorts. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and then she says, “Glad you’re not dead.”

Billy huffs. “Me too.”

She fiddles with the blanket, and Billy reaches out, grabbing her hand. He wishes Steve would come back. Steve is so much better at dealing with conversations like this. But Max doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

Max lifts her head, finally meeting his gaze. There’s sadness in her blue eyes, but anger too. 

“I’m not sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

She smirks, but it’s weak, and he squeezes her hand.

“Neil damaged both of us. But we’re tougher than him, right?”

Although her lip is quivering, she fights it back and nods. 

“So I figure we should stick together, you and me,” he adds. 

“You’d want that?”

“Yeah, I would. But I can’t stay here, not in this hellhole. You okay with leaving?”

“Where would we go?” Max asks.

“Back to the coast. Steve is coming with me.”

“And he’s okay with . . . me?”

“Yeah, he and I talked already,” Billy assures her. “I don’t know if we can do it legally, but we’re both over eighteen, and those government fuckers owe us.”

“Then, yeah. I’ll go with you.”

~~~

Steve rubbing his fingers through Billy’s hair, and Billy is wishing he felt up to something more physical and they weren’t in a hospital room, when the knock comes at the door.

Billy shouts, “Come in!”

Steve pulls his hands away as Dr. Owens and the old general walk in.

“You look better,” Dr. Owens says. “I don’t know if you remember me. You were pretty out of it when we met.”

But Billy has Hopper to thank for filling him in. “Owens, right?”

The man smiles and then pulls a stack of papers out of his briefcase. “I have some documents I’d like you to look at.”

But Billy is ready for him, thanks to Hopper and Steve. He knows what he needs to protect his small tribe.

“You’re the Army man?” he asks the general. “The one who researched the sentinels.” 

“General Bedford,” he says. “I wouldn’t go that far. I was interested, but never did any research.”

“Are you still interested, sir?” Billy asks. “Is the army?”

“No, as far as I’m concerned, sentinels don’t exist. The army has other worries.”

“Then you’ll leave us alone?”

“You have my word.”

“And any records of me and my guide will disappear.”

"The world grows smaller,” the general murmurs. “It won't stay a secret forever.”

“Probably not,” Billy agrees. “But we’ll keep it that way as long as possible.”

He turns to Dr. Owens. “Before I sign any of that, I want some things in return.”

Dr. Owens looks wary. “What?”

Billy ticks the items off on his fingers. “Custody of Max. A full ride for the three of us, wherever we choose. Me, Steve, and Max. A lump sum reimbursement for pain and suffering for each of us.”

Dr. Owens grins. “I think we can manage that. I’ll come back when I have everything ready.”

“You do that.”

~~~

In the end, Billy picks Humboldt State University, majoring in civil engineering. Steve decides to use his abilities to work with kids to become a teacher, and he majors in education. Max grows up, graduates high school, gets into UC Berkeley, and after she gets her degree in computer science, gets a job with one of the technology firms springing up in San Jose.

In 1999, Billy is idly watching the news while cooking dinner. There’s a curly-haired man on the screen, talking about his dissertation.

“Hey, Steve! Come see this.”

Steve joins him, and they watch the press conference where the man denies his data and rejects his dissertation, declaring it to be fraudulent.

“Ouch," Billy winces, remembering the days and weeks and months lost to writing his.

“He’s lying,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” Billy agrees. “You think we should pay them a visit?”

“Yeah. Where is this?”

“Cascade, Washington.”

~end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to give a shout-out to the other 'canon' that influenced this work. :)


End file.
